Child of Wonder
by destinykeyblade
Summary: Zelgius, general of Begnion's Imperial Army. Long considered stone-faced; unflappable. No one could ever have guessed that the one to finally elicit an emotional response from him would be a child. But then, she was no ordinary child...
1. Prologue: A Child

Alrighty then! Hi there, everyone! For those who might have clicked this because they have me on author alert, I swear I am working on my other things. My computer got a virus and crashed in August of 2008, and I am very sorry for that, believe me. Anyway, the point is, sometime (hopefully) in the near future, I will be able to update some of my old fics; I haven't forgotten them, scout's honor. (And I'm actually a Girl Scout, so you know that counts. ^^) Now then... To those who've clicked simply because they're intrigued, welcome to a product of the slightly dissarranged mind of destinykeyblade! And I hope I'm welcome here in the Fire Emblem division of . I'm a rather new but devoted fan, as evidenced by the puffy-painted "I heart Laguz" hoodie I'm wearing right now. And so, without much further ado, I invite you to read my Zelgius fic, _Child of Wonder_, the title of which will be at least partially explained to you by the end of the prologue. Please keep in mind that while Zelgius is essential to this story, it is not neccessarily _about_ him. It is about my OC, whom I deem my greatest creative triumph and love with all my little heart. I hope that over the course of this story you'll come to love her, too. Please read, enjoy, and if you're feeling froggy you could go ahead and review. I'd LOVE some feedback on this, because so far only one of my BFFs has read it. She deems it cute, sweet, and well-written, and I'd like to know if anyone else agrees. Anyway, I'm done talking now, and so with this final note, I leave you to it, dear readers!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn, Zelgius, or any other FE characters that may appear. I own only my two OCs, and any that I may add in later chapters.

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_"...I have to go now."_

_"I assumed as much."_

_"...I don't want to."_

_"I don't want you to."_

_"...I must."_

_"I know."_

_He turned, unthinking, and reached for his shirt. She gasped, and he cringed._

_"...You... You bear the mark..." she said faintly._

_Reluctantly, he turned to face the burning hatred in her eyes - and gasped. Her back was turned to him, and her hair swept aside, revealing a similar pattern at the base of her neck. Stunned, he could think of nothing to say. Slowly, she turned to look at him. There was no trace of the hatred he had expected. And how could there be? They were the same._

_They watched eachother for a moment, neither sure of what to do. Finally, he asked in a whisper, "What... does that mean? What _will_ it mean? Will..." He trailed off._

_And she whispered back, "I... I don't know."_

_Minutes passed with both of them sitting silent, wondering. "You have to go," she reminded him at last, looking sad._

_"How can I?" he returned, raising his voice. "I-"_

_"You have to!" she snapped. Then her eyes softened, as did her tone. "You've got to leave or they'll suspect you."_

_She spoke truth, he knew. Somehow, though, that didn't make it easier. "And what about you?" he asked weakly as he pulled on his clothes._

_"What __about__ me?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing changes for me."_

_"And if... if it does?"_

_She shrugged. "I will simply withdraw from the court."_

_"And go where?" he demanded, close to shouting again._

_She looked at him evenly. "I'll stay right here."_

_"...No."_

_"No?"_

_"Come with me," he begged suddenly, taking her hands. "Come with me, and-"_

_"And what?" she interrupted. "That wouldn't work and you know it. My accent isn't something I can hide. And wouldn't everyone be a bit suspicious as to how you knew a woman from Daein?"_

_He heaved a sigh, defeated. "You must send word," he said. "That is all it will take. Send for me, and I will be here in an instant."_

_She acknowledged his request with a nod, a far-away look in her eyes._

_"I WILL come back for you," he burst out then, and she snorted._

_"As if I were worried about that," she chuckled. "With all your carrying on, I'll be surprised if you ever make it out the door."_

_He frowned, then stared as she brushed her fingers against his face._

_"When grief threatens to take one over, one must laugh," she said quietly, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand._

_Without warning, he grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers. Needless to say she was surprised, but she recovered quickly. When at last he pulled away, she gripped him tight in a last embrace. "Goodbye," she whispered._

_"Know that I love you," he replied. "More than I can say." Slowly, they disentangled themselves, and, after a last look at her, he turned and strode away..._

~**Zelgius**~

With a sigh, Zelgius shook his head, as though to shake off his thoughts. The events of nine years past had nothing to do with today. Memories such as those were better off discarded... Especially when there was work to do. And there was plenty of that; the sounds of the Begnion soldiers' voices outside were proof.

_Marching against the Laguz Alliance... The senate MIGHT be right, yet the apostle does not wish this war. Perhaps, if the Alliance would listen to a peace talk... But the senators would not. If there is a peaceful solution to this problem, they will refuse to see it._

Shaking his head again, this time at the foolishness of the senators, Zelgius slid his sword into its sheath and pushed aside the canvas flap of his tent. No sooner had he stepped outside than a soldier came running up to him.

"General," he said, panting slightly as he saluted. "General, there's... Well, there's a child at the edge of camp demanding to speak with you," he said, confusion etched in every line of his face.

"What?" Zelgius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. She says she bears a message for you, though she won't say from who, and she insists that if she must, she'll fight us all to get to you, sir."

"When you say 'child'-" Zelgius began.

"I mean her head hardly reaches past my middle," the soldier interrupted. "She can't be more than ten, sir. Honestly, I'd say she's about eight."

Zelgius nodded slowly. "Let her come," he commanded.

"Yes, sir." The soldier darted off, and Zelgius was left alone to ponder.

A child? Approaching the army? With a message for him? What was the meaning of this?

"Who would be giving me a message?" Zelgius wondered under his breath. "And what fool would send a _child_ to deliver it? I suppose I'll know shortly..."

"Where?" a little voice shrilled demandingly.

"He's right over the-"

"Get out of my way!"

Zelgius looked up in time to see a small girl with dark hair storming toward him, shoving aside men twice her height as she went.

"General Zelgius?" she asked imperiously upon reaching him.

"Yes," he said, gazing at her curiously.

"I have matters which I must discuss with you," she said severely, unlike any child he had ever seen. "Immediately. And alone!" she added, shooting glares at the soldiers around them. "Will you grant me thirty minutes of your time, General?"

Intrigued by her peculiar manner, Zelgius nodded. "Yes. Come," he said, gesturing her into his tent. She strode past him, but not before glaring at his men again.

"_Alone_, General," she stressed. "No one listening outside."

"As you wish," Zelgius replied, motioning for the soldiers to leave. They did so reluctantly, mumbling amongst themselves.

The general let the tent flap fall closed and walked calmly toward the little girl, his expression perfectly composed. The same could not be said for his mind, which was whirling madly.

_Who IS this child? What is her true purpose here? Who could have sent-_

"Shall we get down to business, then?" she inquired, breaking into his thoughts.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Please, sit down." He gestured toward a chair, but the girl shook her head.

"No thank you, General."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He walked past her toward another chair, in case she changed her mind. "I, for one, am not going to stand for thirty minutes."

The girl growled at the mention of her time limit, and Zelgius heard the sound of fabric rubbing together. The child was behind him. Unable to quell a curiosity as to what she was doing, Zelgius glanced back over his shoulder - and whirled around, staring.

The little girl's shirt sleeve was rolled up to her shoulder, thus the source of the sound. And there, just below her shoulder, was a mark that Zelgius recognized instantly. A Brand.

She gazed at him calmly as he stared.

"Who are you?" Zelgius asked quietly.

"Patience, General," she said, smirking at him. The smirk vanished. "You will recall an event roughly nine and a half years ago. A meeting. Between yourself and a woman from Dae-"

"Who are you?" Zelgius asked again, louder and a bit shakily this time. And why shouldn't he be shaken? No one knew of that tryst save Aeravi and himself! Yet this child... This child was somehow aware. And that meant she knew he was the Black Knight! That was NOT knowledge he could have circulating through the camp!

"General, I have come here at that woman's request. She wished for me to give you this." The girl held up a small envelope, showing it to him. Then she tossed it in his direction, and he fumbled to catch it. Upon breaking the seal and pulling out the parchment inside, Zelgius saw only a handful of words.

**My Zelgius...**

**I love you.**

**I'm sorry I didn't listen.**

**I hope you'll forgive me once you know my reasons.**

**Zelgius.**

**My love.**

**Goodbye.**

**~Aeravi**

Zelgius looked at the page blankly. What reasons? Reasons for what? Had he missed something? The child made an impatient noise, and he brought his eyes up to meet hers.

"She gave me something as well," she said. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled as she drew another envelope, already opened, out of its hiding place in her coat. "Aeravi-"

"Where is she?" Zelgius interrupted quietly.

The child made a fist. "She's... she's dead."

Zelgius felt as though he'd been kicked by a warhorse. "No!" he exclaimed. "She can't be!"

The girl's entire body was trembling now. "That's what I thought," she said bitterly. "But I watched her die. She got sick, and no one could make her better..."

As she spoke, her bitterness, as well as her toughness, seemed to dissipate into nothing. She became - for the first time since Zelgius had met her - a child. "They said they tried, but... Wouldn't she be better if they had? Wouldn't she still... be here?"

She fingered the envelope she held. "She gave me this. It's a drawing. A sketch. She... she sent me off with this and a name. Nothing else to go on. But..."

"Whose name?" Zelgius heard himself ask, his voice soft.

"...My father's," the little girl whispered.

"...What is it?"

She looked into his eyes, and he looked back. The girl took a deep breath.

"Zelgius," she said.

The warhorse kicked Zelgius again. He looked into her eyes once more and saw that they were his own, copied directly into her little face, which looked so much like Aeravi's he wondered how he hadn't seen it before.

"...And... what is your name?"

"Mirari," she answered.

"Mirari," Zelgius repeated. "...It's beautiful."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Hi, Daddy," she murmured, waving.

Zelgius knelt down, placing Aeravi's letter in the seat of the chair he hadn't sat in. "Hello, Mirari," he said softly. Both mind and body slightly numb, he opened his arms slowly. Mirari fell into them, and Zelgius embraced his daughter for the first time.

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...Well, there it is. Feedback would be lovely - wondermous, even. Thank you for taking the time to read this story. If anyone likes it (and quite possibly even if they don't) I shall continue to update this fic. Anywho, farewell 'til next time! ~destinykeyblade


	2. Chapter 1: A Reason to Smile

Hey y'all, I'm back! ^^ Ready for more? ...I don't know how expect you to answer that lol. Anywho, a couple of notes before we get started: Thank you to all the kind souls who favorited this fic and did the story alert thing (Echo717, Cookiecoo, Kanon Ryusaki {who also reviewed and therefore ROCKS!}, Infinite Freedom, Lady of Silentia, and adlex47Liger0). You guys are awesome. ^^ Also, a bit of advice: 1) In the last chappie's A/N, change 2008 to 2009; my finger missed the 9 key while I was typing -.-' , and 2) When, in this chapter, you reach the line 'But perhaps the most important' I highly recommend you listen to Smile by Uncle Kracker. Trust me, it fits. Now then, on to the fic! Oh, one more thing? IS DRIVING ME CRAZY! THE CHAPTER NUMBER AND SWITCHES IN POV ARE SUPPOSED TO BE CENTERED, BUT FOR SOME IDIOTIC REASON, THE WEBSITE REFUSES TO LET ME CENTER THEM! ...So we all just have to deal with the idiocy of it.

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**~Chapter 1~**

"...You traveled across the Begnion countryside _by yourself?_" Zelgius asked, horrified.

Mirari frowned and crossed her arms. "I tried to find you before the army left Sienne, but obviously I failed. So yes." Seeing Zelgius's expression, she added quickly, "But I have this, and I know how to use it." She pulled a dagger out of her sleeve and showed it to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see.

"Whether you know how to use it or not, I want you to promise me that you won't," he said pleadingly.

"...Why?"

Zelgius reopened his eyes and gazed at her. "Because I do not want you anywhere near the fighting."

She looked surprised - and upset. "But I want to help!" she exclaimed, her frown close to becoming a pout.

"No," he said harshly, and she cringed. Zelgius softened his voice. "Mirari."

Hesitantly, she met his gaze. It, too, had softened, and the little girl chanced a tiny, confused smile. "I want to help," she said again, this time nervously.

"Mirari. I don't doubt your abilities," Zelgius explained gently. "Your mother was no novice when it came to self-defense; I've no doubt she taught you well. But... I do not want you in the chaos of battle. You could be hurt so easily... Do you understand?" he asked, seeing her start to pout again.

"I understand," she said grudgingly, looking at the ground. She started when she felt Zelgius pull her towards him, but relaxed and embraced him almost instantly. "I won't fight against the Alliance," she promised, her voice muffled as she spoke into Zelgius's shoulder.

"Thank you."

Something strange occurred then: Mirari's stomach began to grumble. The little girl flushed scarlet.

"How long has it been since you've eaten, Mirari?"

She stopped and thought about it. "Umm... I think I ate some berries yesterday morning?" she said uncertainly.

Zelgius was struck by a strange flood of emotions. There was worry that bordered fear, as well as anger and... happiness? Where on earth had the last one come from? As Zelgius led Mirari out of the tent and toward the supplies, he began to understand. _She needs me. Happiness... from being needed for something other than war._

A short time later, Zelgius could be seen carrying a sleeping Mirari back to his tent after rescuing the eight year-old from falling into her food. Clearly, sustenance was not the only thing she had deprived herself of in her quest to find her father.

The general of the imperial army laid his daughter down and tucked a blanket around her, wary of the autumn weather. He watched her for a moment, filled with a sense of wonder. She was so... small. And yet, she had found the strength and the determination to venture through a hostile land _on her own_ to find someone she had never even met. Most grown men would find it difficult to accomplish the journey she had. The difference between bravery and cowardice, perhaps?

Zelgius's heart swelled with pride as he gazed upon Mirari's sleeping form. _My daughter,_ he thought, feeling a smile spread over his face. _My little girl. ...I wish you had told me, Aeravi... Why didn't you...?_

"General!" a voice called from outside.

As quietly as possible, Zelgius crept out of the tent, but not before planting a kiss on Mirari's forehead. The child smiled in her sleep.

* * *

It could be said that there were few joys in Zelgius's life. With the arrival of Mirari, that list was lengthened considerably - as was the list of his responsibilities, for although she was a source of great happiness, Mirari was a lot of work.

First of all, her identity had to be kept a secret, a necessity that annoyed many of the curious soldiers, but kept a much larger portion of them entertained as they attempted to puzzle out her heritage.

"Well she must be _someone_ important," one man insisted to another. "Otherwise, why would the general be wasting time and effort on her like this?"

The other man shrugged and said nothing, while a third suggested tentatively, "Do you think maybe she's Lord Sephiran's? She sort of looks like him... and that would explain why General Zelgius cares so much about her safety and such."

Zelgius, walking some distance behind them, couldn't help but smirk. _Wrong, gentlemen. ...But not a bad guess._

Second, time had to be taken out of each day to see that Mirari was properly fed and watered. Also, a few clerics had to be begged for their assistance in finding the child something to else to wear, as the clothes she had arrived in were more than a bit bedraggled.

"Hold still, child!" the head cleric fussed as she attempted to find the length and width of a squirming Mirari. "I can't do anything if you won't hold still for a moment!"

"And I'm not a pincushion," the girl said irritably. "You keep poking me with those things! It hurts!"

"Augh!" The cleric threw her hands up. "Rhia, take over," she ordered one of her subordinates. The younger woman complied, and by way of a little more finesse than her companion had shown, managed to complete the task.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the camp, a young archer was saluting his general. "You sent for me, sir?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"Yes, Arklin," Zelgius replied.

"Do I have new orders, sir?" the younger man asked quickly, sounding eager.

"As a matter of fact, you do."

"What are they?"

Zelgius hesitated a few seconds, having second thoughts about his choice. "You are aware that there is a child traveling with us, correct?"

Arklin blinked. "Yes..." he said slowly, confused again.

"Then you will also be aware that it is my responsibility to see that this child is well taken care of."

"...Yes, sir..." The look in Arklin's eyes clearly said "I'm lost."

"As general of the imperial army, I have other duties that - at times - take precedence over my obligation to the girl. When this is the case, I will need someone dependable to take care of her in my abscence. Arklin, can I count on you?"

The look of bafflement vanished from Arklin's face. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed, saluting again. Zelgius nodded in approval, though he couldn't help but wonder what he had just done.

Third, though Mirari knew many things, there were many more that she did not...

Mirari was watching the animal nervously - and had been for quite some time.

"What's the matter?" Zelgius asked finally.

The little girl turned toward her father. "...It's big," she said.

Zelgius blinked. "Yes. It has to be. Otherwise, how will you ride it?"

Mirari's eyes grew wide. "W-what?" she stammered. "Me? Ride?"

"...You do know how, don't you?" Zelgius asked somewhat despairingly.

"Umm... well, I... um... uh..."

Zelgius sighed. _We have to get moving _now_,_ he thought, glancing at the soldiers finishing their preparations. _There's no time to teach her._

Wordlessly, Zelgius picked Mirari up and, ignoring her squeal of surprise, placed her in the saddle of his warhorse, Celerare. Before Mirari had a chance to move, Zelgius swung himself up behind her and took hold of the reins.

Mirari trembled with fright at being so high off the ground - and supported not by something solid, but a sentient creature with a mind and feelings of its own. At any given time, the horse might feel like bucking her off, or rolling over and squishing her, or-

"Mirari."

Zelgius's voice, strong and reassuring, cut through the child's nightmarish fantasies and brought her back to the present.

"Y-yes?" she stammered.

"Don't be afraid. ...It's alright."

"B-but..."

"It's alright, Mirari. I promise."

"...Okay," she whispered. The girl leaned back into her father's strong embrace, clinging to the saddle horn with all her might as Zelgius spurred Celerare foward.

But perhaps the most important of all his new responsibilities was keeping his daughter entertained - and making sure she was aware of the love he felt for her.

"Hmm..."

Mirari's brow was furrowed. A look of deep concentration was in her eyes and settled over her face. She gazed at the small stones as if attempting to stare a hole through them. Moments passed in silence. All at once, Mirari's face lit up. Laughing joyously, she slid one of the rocks toward another, darker in color. She lifted up the dark rock and tossed it aside, putting her light gray stone in its place. She laughed again and clapped her hands. "I win!" she declared gleefully. "What do you think of _that_?" she asked Zelgius.

The general smiled in pride and amazement, but for only a moment. Then his smile was replaced by an expression of mock horror and dissapointment. "Beaten!" he said dramatically, falling backward into the dirt. "By my daughter, no less!"

Mirari pounced on him, giggling madly. "Then the great General Zelgius admits defeat?" she asked, grinning.

Zelgius lay still for a moment. "..."

"Well?" Mirari questioned.

"...No!" he said suddenly. Mirari squealed as Zelgius attacked her with tickles. The child struggled in vain to escape his clutches, and within moments her laughter was punctuated with gasps for breath.

"Stop, stop, stop!" she forced out amidst her shrieks, trying to push his hands away.

"Do you give up?" Zelgius asked, smirking playfully.

"Stop!"

"Do you give up?"

"St-hahah-p, stopstopstop!"

"Give up!"

At last, Mirari slapped her hand on the ground in a gesture of submission. "I concede!" she cried, and Zelgius pulled his hands back immediately. Mirari flopped over on her back, panting. A few moments passed before Mirari so much as moved. It wasn't long, but it was enough to crease Zelgius's brow with unconditional worry.

"Mir?" he asked. The little girl sat straight up.

"What did you say?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I... called you Mir?" Zelgius answered uncertainly.

She stared at him. Then, suddenly, a smile broke over her face. "That's what Mother called me when I was smaller," she exclaimed. "I haven't heard it in a long time! ...I've missed it."

Zelgius smiled back at her. She was so... cute. He almost shook his head. From the start, she'd had him wrapped around her little finger. But he didn't mind.

Quite suddenly, Mir's smile melted away as she reverted to the 'tough girl' charade she used in public. Zelgius wondered why - that is, until he heard the approaching footsteps.

"General," came Arklin's voice from behind him. "The scouts report that a group of laguz has been camping not far from our position. Commander Tauren asks permission to take a platoon to, erm... investigate further. What shall I tell him?"

Zelgius detected a note of contempt in Arklin's voice when he spoke of Tauren's plan. Clearly he knew that 'further investigation' meant simply that Tauren planned to search for any stragglers and kill them. The general was also concious of Akrlin's use of the word 'laguz' rather than the deregatory 'sub-human' most soldiers would have said. Perhaps Arklin had not been a bad choice after all... He turned to face the archer.

"Tell Tauren that he and a small force may ride ahead if they wish," Zelgius said. "However, if any laguz are found, under no circumstances is there to be any confrontation. Make this clear to the commander, Arklin."

"Sir." Arklin offered a small bow before dashing away.

Zelgius returned his attention to his daughter. "We'll be moving again early in the morning, Mir," he told her. "And it's getting late now. You should-"

Mirari cut him off with a moan. "Faaaaatheeeeerrrr," she whined, pouting. "The sun's still up!"

He crossed his arms. "Yes, it is. That will compensate for it not being up yet when we start marching tomorrow," he answered. The little girl flopped back to ground again, letting out another groan. "Mirari..." Zelgius said in a threatening tone. She didn't move.

The man sighed inwardly. "You have until the count of three," he announced. "One." Mir twitched slightly. "Two..." She sat up and looked at him, eyes wide and fearful. Zelgius met her gaze. "Thr-"

"GOOD NIGHT!" Mir squeaked, leaping to her feet. She scurried over to Zelgius and gave him a quick squeeze that might have wanted to be a hug. " 'Night," she repeated.

Zelgius smiled and put an arm around her shoulders, returning her squeeze. "Good night, Mir," he said. "Sleep well."

Mirari frowned. "Mother used to say 'sweet dreams'..." she muttered. Zelgius opened his mouth quickly to add this, but Mir cut him off, saying, "But it didn't work. I still had nightmares sometimes." She flashed him a grin. "Not anymore, though. 'Night, Father." Then she took off, leaving Zelgius to wonder what that had meant. He didn't have long to think on it, however, as Arklin came racing back to him not a moment later.

"Sir!" he called. "Sir, the informant is here. He wishes to speak with you. Now. Or at least, as immediately as posssible..."

**~Tibarn~**

"Everyone's in position, Your Majesty," Janaff said quietly, gazing off into the distance. "We're ready to begin the ambush."

Tibarn nodded in satisfaction. "Good. What's the army doing?"

Janaff squinted. "Huh..." He grinned. "Not a thing! They're just sitting around, talking."

Phoenicis's king frowned and turned to his other aide. "Ulki. Anything important being said down there?"

The dark brown hawk closed his eyes briefly. Then he reopened them, shaking his head. "No, Your Majesty," he replied. "Nothing but chatter to fill the silence."

With a smirk, Tibarn shifted, reveling in the sensations that the change brought with it. Fixing his eye on the enemy, the Hawk King spread his massive wings and let out a screech, signaling to his soldiers that the battle was about to begin.

Talon clashed with steel again, again, again. The air was thick with the sounds of battle, and heavy with the stench of blood.

Tibarn narrowly dodged an arrow. _This is madness!_ he thought. His eyes found the archer that had shot at him, and he plummeted down toward the man, hardly hearing the agonized scream as his talons ripped through the beorc's delicate flesh. _If this keeps up, we'll all be slaughtered! Curse that Naesala!_

He spared a moment to glance about. Everywhere he looked, his men were locked in combat with Begnion's dogs - and half of them would have appeared to be losing. Their feathers were drenched with blood, and though the majority of it was not their own, the sticky liquid slowed their wingbeats. As if that weren't enough, fatigue was also beginning to become a factor; laguz were not capable of endless combat. That being said, the beorc were beginning to tire as well, their attacks coming progressively slower and their aim becoming less accurate.

_If I ever see that back-stabbing crow again, I am going to rip him into a thousand bloody shreds,_ Tibarn thought savagely, diving through the air to slash another archer's throat. Again, he failed to notice the dying man's shrieks; Naesala's face filled his mind, his image as red as the blood that spurted from the archer's body to stain Tibarn's talons and wings.

A new figure emerged from somewhere in Begnion's ranks, pushing his way to the front. His eyes were locked on Tibarn. The Hawk King sent a glare in the man's direction and made to attack, but the beorc held up his hand, as though telling Tibarn to wait.

"Stand down!" he roared at his men, for he was obviously their commander. They obeyed quickly and withdrew from the fray, though not without casting him confused glances.

Tibarn narrowed his eyes. What sense did any of this make? He soared nearer to the beorc commander, stopping in front of him. _What is the meaning of this ceasefire?_

The commander raised a large, gleaming sword into the air, then drove it, point down, into the ground. He met Tibarn's golden eyes with his own, the color of emeralds. A wind gusted across the battlefield, ruffling both the hawks' feathers and the beorc's dark blue hair.

"This battle has gone on long enough, Hawk King," the beorc said. His voice held no malice or contempt, though it did have perhaps a touch of... pity? "Fly. Fly back to your kingdom as fast as your wings will carry you, and you may still have time to save them. Go!"

Tibarn's eyes flew open wide at the man's words. "NO!" he screeched, and immediately wheeled away from the imperial army, pointing his beak in the direction of Phoenicis and beating his wings furiously. Janaff appeared on his right, Ulki on his left; the rest of the remaining hawks flew in a desperate, sloppy formation behind them. One thought dominated every hawk's mind: _Don't let it be too late._

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Thank you, Tibarn! Good grief, I started to choke on the sweetness while I was writing this chapter! Tibarn rescued it by making it bloody. ^^ ...Yeah, you see how my mind works. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks for reading and all that jazz. Chapter 2 is already well on its way to completion, so I should be back before long. ^^ Thanks again to all my favoriter/alerters (and to my one epic reviewer). Later! ^.~

~destinykeyblade


	3. Chapter 2: Sides To Every Story

Hey there, folks! I'm back! ...Yes, I know what you're thinking: _Took you long enough, woman._ And I completely agree with you! But I do have a valid excuse, namely that this chapter (minus this Authoress's Note and whatever I decide to say at the bottom) is precisely 14,142 words, and appears on my computer as 63 pages. HOLY. CARP. O.O That's ALOT of story, am I right? So please, don't begrudge me the time it took to update. It was well worth the wait (I hope). Now! A few things we need to do before we get this ridiculously long chapter started. First up, I must thank Kanon Ryusaki, who reviewed AGAIN! KR, I'll write a review reply in the bottom A/N, 'kay? You rule! ^^ Also, big thank-yous to the amazing Lamiror, whose reviews I have already replied to, but whatever. LOVE YOU, LAMI! BUNNY CHICKEN ON A FROG! ...Ahem. Back to business. ...Actually, on to the chapter, 'cause what I have to say is only gonna make sense AFTER you've read all this. So, please enjoy, and make sure you stick around for the very important A/N!

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**~Chapter 2~**

**~Mirari~**

The camp was loud and rowdy as Mir wandered through it. She cast quizzical glances at some of the soldiers guzzling ale, wondering why they did it. They'd just have headaches in the morning... At least, that's what her mother had said about drinking. Nothing but a headache.

"What are they so happy about, anyway...?" Mir mumbled to herself, frowning in confusion. She dodged one of the campfires, darting into the darkness that surrounded it so as not to be seen. "Maybe Father will tell me later..." Her thoughts wandered away from the drunken soldiers then, focusing instead on the man she'd come to this place to find.

Mirari could recall perfectly the events of the day she turned five. She'd been outside, playing with some other children. When she told them, proudly, that it was her fifth birthday, they had formed a circle and danced around her, singing her an off-key song that made her feel warm and happy inside. She'd chosen all the games they played that day, and had been allowed to play whatever position she'd wanted (the seeker or one of the hiders, It or one of the people It had to tag...). It was the best day of her life, and nothing could make it anything but wonderful. Or so she'd thought.

_The sun was tired, and falling out of the sky so it could go to bed. Mirari and the other children groaned when the sky turned orange, knowing that they would have to go to bed soon as well. Determined to play as long as possible, each member of the group of seven dashed behind a different tree or bush, hiding from the grown-ups that were starting to arrive._

_"Emielle! Rand! It's time to go!" a woman called._

_Mir could see her friends in their tree through the leaves of her bush. Neither seven year-old Emielle, the oldest of everyone, or her four year-old brother Rand so much as moved. Their mother called for them again. Mir looked at her and saw her put her hands on her hips. That was a bad sign._

_"I am going to count to three," she said, using 'the voice.' "If the two of you are not over here by then, you will get a spanking! One."_

_Rand looked up at Emielle. She shook her head, and he stayed put._

_"Two!"_

_Mir couldn't hear his whisper, but she could read Rand's lips. "Sissy, spankin' hurts..." he said to Emielle. The girl looked troubled. Should they go, or not?_

_"Two and a half..." their mother said loudly in the 'I really mean it' tone, and both the siblings sprang from the tree, running toward their mother as fast as their legs would carry them. The woman smiled, pleased, but the rest of the children moaned as they too crawled out from their hiding places. No use in hiding anymore..._

_"Bye, Mirari!" Emielle shouted, waving both hands over her head. "Happy birthday!"_

_"Bye Emi!" Mir called back, waving to the blonde girl. "Thanks!" She paused, considering, then said, "Bye Rand!"_

_The little boy grinned at her and waggled his fingers. "Bye, M'rar," he said, unable to say her name correctly. Then he and his sister took their mother's hands, and the three of them walked off, heading for home._

_Mir watched somewhat sadly as the rest of her friends' parents came to get them. She called goodbye to everyone, and they said goodbye and happy birthday in response, which left Mir a bit happier than she otherwise might have been. It _was_ her birthday, and it had been the most fun she'd ever had. Even if it was over now, it was still a good day._

_Then her own mother appeared. Mir dashed across the grassy ground and lunged at her, hugging her tight. "Did you have fun, Mir?" she asked, smiling._

_"Uh-huh!" she answered happily. "We played all day! And I got to-"_

_"Bye Mirari!" a voice interrupted. Mir turned around and saw her friend Ella waving wildly, her bright red curls swinging around in much the same way. Ella squealed as she was suddenly plucked off the ground by a man with hair as red as her own._

_"Time to go, Ell," he said with a laugh, putting her on his shoulders. He raised a hand to Mir's mother. "Hello, Aeravi!" he called, smiling in a friendly manner._

_Mir frowned as her mother responded with a wave and a 'hello, nice to see you.' Ella's father was always in the background, always right there if Ella needed him. The other children said that their fathers were like that, too. If that's how all fathers were, where was Mir's father...?_

_"Mir?" her mother asked. She jumped, startled._

_"Y-yes?" she asked, stammering._

_"It's time we started home, too, dear. Let's go." She took Mir's hand, and the two of them walked back towards their little house on the hill with all the flowers. It was a quiet walk until her mother said her name. "Mirari." She stopped right in the middle of the path. "What's the matter?"_

_Mir looked at the sky, at the ground, anywhere but at the woman holding her hand. "Nothing," she answered too quickly._

_"Mirari, what have I said about lying?" Aeravi asked in a stern voice._

_"That you should never, ever lie straight out," the little girl answered automatically. "You can withold information if necessary, but never tell an outright lie."_

_A moment passed. "Then tell me what's bothering you," her mother said, and Mir brought her green eyes to meet Aeravi's violet. They stung with the effort of holding back confused tears._

_"...Where's my father?" she asked finally, feeling her tears spill over. But that didn't make any sense! Why was she crying? It was just a question! Every teardrop made Mir angry, and more confused than she was before, resulting in more and more of the hot, salty water droplets streaming down her face._

_Aeravi's face became a blank, emotionless mask. It always did that when she was upset. Silently, she gathered Mir into her arms and picked her up, carrying her the rest of the way home._

_"...Mirari," Aeravi said. Almost an hour had passed since Mir had asked her question, and this was the first time either of them had spoken since. Mir was sitting by the hearth, staring into the flames that danced behind the grate. She turned away from them and looked at her mother, who came to sit beside her on the stone floor._

_Aeravi took a deep breath. "Mirari. Your father is in Sienne."_

_Mir frowned. "Why?" she whispered. "Why isn't he here with us? Or why aren't we there with him?" She felt more tears welling up in her eyes, but this time she didn't care. "Doesn't he care about us?"_

_Her mother pulled her close. "Oh, Mir," she murmured, stroking her hair. "Mir, your father is a good man, and he loves us very much..." She sighed. "Practice what you preach, Aeravi," she scolded herself, and Mir looked up at her, confused. Her mother sighed again. "That was a lie."_

_Mir's eyes got big, and all the tears came rushing forth. "What?" she choked, her heart splintering in two. "He... he doesn't love us?"_

_Aeravi's eyes enlarged as well. "Oh, no, honey, that's not what I- Oh, Mir, that's not what I meant! That's not what I meant..."_

_"Then..." Mir started to ask, but found that she couldn't finish it._

_Her mother held her tight again. "Mirari, your father has never met you," she said quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "He and I... we met eachother in another country. In Daein. I fell in love with him, and after a time, he fell in love with me, too. Sometimes, Mir, when people love eachother very much, they... they do something."_

_Mir blinked, curiosity driving away her sadness for a moment. "Like what?" she sniffed, rubbing her nose with her sleeve._

_Aeravi paled. "Umm... just... something," she said evasively. Mir scowled at her. More than anything, she disliked not being given an answer when she was curious. "I'll tell you when you're older," Aeravi said, and Mir sniffled again._

_"Promise?" she asked, sticking out her pinkie._

_"I promise," Aeravi replied, wrapping her finger around Mir's. "I promise."_

_Mirari took a breath to calm herself a bit. "Okay. So you did something. Then what happened?"_

_Her mother seemed relieved that the subject had been dropped. "Well, Mir," she said, staring into the fireplace now herself. "Your father had to go back to Sienne. He didn't want to leave, Mir, really. He wanted to stay with me, but I knew he couldn't do that. He had important things to tend to in Begnion. He knew it, too, so he asked me to come with him."_

_"What did you say?" Mirari asked, green eyes big and sparkly with tears._

_Aeravi paused. "...I said no," she admitted, and Mir practically glared at her._

_"Why?" she demanded. "Mother, why did you do that?"_

_"I didn't know yet that I was going to have you," Aeravi said defensively, frowning. "And besides, at that time, I was a lady of Daein. I couldn't just take off anytime I wanted; it doesn't work that way."_

_Mirari crossed her arms and scowled, blinking frequently so as not to cry again. "So he left and you stayed?" she asked, her little voice cold._

_"Yes," her mother sighed. "Yes, that's what happened. And then, after he was gone, I found out that you were going to come along."_

_"...Did you tell him?"_

_Aeravi struggled to hold back her own tears. "No," she whispered brokenly. "He begged me to send word if I was going to have a baby, but I never did. He's never met you, Mir, and that's not his fault. It's mine."_

But Mirari could never accept that. If her father had truly cared, she thought, he would have done something. He would have tried harder to find them, would have asked the people that knew her mother was leaving for southern Begnion _exactly_ where she meant to go. He would have asked if she was carrying a child. He would have done _something_.

And so no matter what her mother said, Mir had always blamed her father for everything. It was his fault she didn't have two parents like everyone else. It was his fault she didn't even know his name, or what he looked like. It was his fault, everything was his fault! Even her mother's death had been his fault. If he had been there, somehow, she would have lived. Or at least, that's what Mir had told herself.

She had always been certain that if she ever met her father, she wouldn't like him. In fact, she was going to make it a _point_ not to like him, ever. He was a horrible person, and she didn't and WOULDN'T like him, not one little bit.

And then her mother had gotten sick, so very, very sick. The healers and the doctors couldn't heal and doctor her, because they couldn't figure out what was wrong. And then, finally, they'd stumbled across the answer in some dusty old book from a library, but they said that it was too late by then; they'd wasted too much time.

Aeravi was too sick to get out of bed. Mir went outside for her and trimmed the flower bushes as she'd seen her mother do so many times, bringing the flowers that weren't growing anymore into the house and sticking them in her mother's hair. They always made her happy, and they made her look so pretty, even as tired and pale as she was.

One day, she'd asked Mir to bring her something hard, like a wooden board, that she could bare down on. Mirari had scurried around, looking for an item that would fit the bill. All she could find in the end was a cutting board, so that was what she ran back to her mother's bedside with. Aeravi had smiled and laughed weakly, reaching out to mess up Mir's hair as she did so.

Then, Aeravi took up a piece of parchment and her favorite quill, and set to scribbling. It took her but a moment to finish what she said was a letter, which made Mirari wonder why she had even bothered if there was so little to say. She didn't have long to dwell on it, as her mother grabbed another sheet and put it on the cutting board, pressing the quill to it almost immediately.

_"Come here, Mirari," Aeravi ordered, her voice weak and raspy. Mir obeyed quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed._

_"Yes, Mother?" she asked politely._

_"I want you to find an envelope for the letter I wrote and put it inside. Then come back and look."_

_Mir blinked. Look at what? She suppressed her curiosity and did as her mother asked, carefully folding the sand-covered parchment so that it would fit inside the envelope. She grabbed the 'wax-smasher' as she'd been known to call it, and pressed it down on the glob of warm wax she dropped on the outside of the envelope to seal it._

_"Are you finished?" Aeravi asked weakly, still hard at work on... whatever it was._

_"Yes," Mir said, and, after gently placing the letter on the writing desk, scampered back to the bed._

_"Thank you, child," Aeravi said, glancing up at Mir and offering her a smile. "Sit down, Mir. Sit down and look."_

_Again Mirari obeyed, and her mother turned the cutting board so that Mir could see the parchment. On it was a detailed drawing of a man Mir had never seen before. He had what Mir supposed could be called a handsome face, wore lots of armor, and carried a great big sword. He wasn't smiling, but from looking at his eyes, he appeared to be hiding one._

_"Who's that, Mother?" Mirari asked, looking at Aeravi in mild confusion._

_Aeravi closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "His name is Zelgius," she answered, her voice trembling a bit. "He is the general of the Central Army. Mir..." She reopened her violet eyes and looked into her daughter's emerald. "...He's also... Oh, Mirari, he's... he's your father."_

_Mir's eyes were bigger than the giant sunflowers outside. "What?" she yelped, staring at the picture. "G-general... Zelgius...? M-m...my father?"_

_Aeravi nodded. "Yes, Mirari," she said softly, wrapping her arms around Mir comfortingly. "Yes. General Zelgius is your father. ...Mir... I'm going to die."_

_The little girl started. "W-what?" she stammered, staring at her mother. "No, you... you can't!"_

_Aeravi glared at Mir as tears started to fall from her eyes. "Stop that," she said harshly, and Mir was startled in obedience. "Mirari, you have known since the healers left that I wasn't going to be with you much longer. Since this is the case, Mir, I want you to find your father and stay with him from now on."_

_Mir bit her lip to stop it trembling. "Mother," she whimpered, hugging the woman as tightly as she could. "Mother, no. You can't leave... I love you!"_

_"And I love you, Mir," Aeravi said, her voice gentle now. "But Ashera is calling for me, and I am in no position to ignore her. When she says that I must go... I will. Mirari, when I go, I want you to leave this house and go to Sienne. Find your father. Give him the letter I wrote. Mir, I love you with all of my heart. Your father will love you just as much."_

_Mirari squeezed her mother. "...Don't go..." she whispered into Aeravi's hair._

When Aeravi left for Ashera's palace atop the clouds, Mirari did as she'd been told. She took the letter, and the drawing, and struck out for Sienne, a ten-day walk for a child her size. However, upon arriving and listening to people chatter in the marketplace, Mir learned that the army had been ordered to march out to fight against something called the 'Laguz Alliance', whatever _that_ meant. All it meant to Mir was that her father was no longer in the city, and she would have to walk back in the other direction if she wanted to find him.

The days were long, and the nights were cold. Mir shivered half the time and ignored hunger the other half. She hadn't brought much food with her, because she'd been told before that wild animals would smell it and want to eat it - and maybe her along with it. By the time she FINALLY found the army, she was tired and starving, though she wouldn't let anyone know it. Show a weakness, and your enemy would exploit it, her mother always said. So Mir put on a mask, determined not to let her enemies see that she wasn't as strong as she acted.

And then. Then she met him. After a whole eight and a half years of not even knowing who he was, Mir found herself talking to Enemy Number 1, General Zelgius. Her father. Her first impression of him was that he was rude, and heartless. There was no way her mother's words could be right: _"Your father will love you just as much."_ Not him. He couldn't love ANYTHING, Mir thought. But she was wrong.

When Mirari rolled up her sleeve to reveal her Brand, she laughed in her mind at the look on Zelgius's face. He was completely shocked, and it was oh-so-funny. Then she spoke of his meeting Aeravi in Daein, and he looked positively terrified. Somehow, that wasn't quite as amusing. Maybe because her mother was involved...? Not fully understanding it, Mir ignored that reaction and pulled out the letter. She'd thought about opening it several times, but decided against it. The seal guaranteed that he would know, and Mir wouldn't have that. Knowing that she'd been curious would be knowing one of her weaknesses.

So she tossed him the letter, pretending to be tough and callous. But then... he asked where Aeravi was. A hole ripped open in Mir's heart. She'd been trying not to think about why she was here, just that she was. She clenched her hands into fists so her hands wouldn't shake. That was weakness... She told Zelgius, with as even a voice as she could manage, that Aeravi was dead. When he yelled "No!", Mir couldn't help herself. She looked at him, looked in his eyes, and saw pain reflected there, as well as a sorrow that might well have matched her own. So... he really _had_ cared... He _had_ loved Aeravi. In a different way than Mir, of course, but the fact remained...

Something happened when she saw that he was so saddened by what she had said. Mirari let her mask slip off, not caring about revealing her weaknesses anymore. He wasn't her enemy, he was... her father. And in spite of all the things Mir had told herself she would think and feel, she found, when the general -no, her father- held his arms open to hug her, that she loved him.

"Mirari?"

The call jolted Mir out of her thoughts, and she looked around to see who'd said her name. Her eyes found Arklin, the archer that had stayed with her earlier that day when her father had had 'something else' to do.

Mir ran over to her friend, smiling at him. "Hi, Arklin!" she greeted him cheerfully.

He didn't seem to share in her happy feelings. The young brunette frowned down at Mir, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded, though not in a mean way; it was more concerned than anything, though there was perhaps a hint of frustration there. "The general'll have my hide if he finds out you're not asleep like I said you were!"

She shrugged. "You told the truth," she said, flashing him an adorable smile. "I _was_ asleep. But then I woke up." Mirari made big, pitiful eyes at him. "Please don't send me back to bed!" she pleaded. "Let me stay here with you for a little while!"

Arklin groaned, but found it impossible to refuse her. "Aww... Oh, alright," he said at last, defeated. Mir giggled and clapped her hands, unafraid to show emotion in front of the archer. He was still like a kid himself - as was obvious from the fun he'd had playing hide-and-seek with her - and Mir only pretended to be tough in front of grown-ups. "But just for a little while!"

Mir blinked innocently. "Of course, Arklin," she said as sweetly as she could.

The twenty year-old groaned again. "Augh... Geez, kid. It's no wonder the general took you in if you put that spell on him, too! Even if you aren't Sephiran's like Koras says, there's no w-"

"Arklin!" someone called. The interruption appeared out of the darkness in the form of a fighter with sandy-blonde hair and a silly smile.

Arklin's expression was pained. "Hi, Damion," he said, sounding very displeased. "Nice to see you." He yelped as the fighter, the haft the steel axe dangling from his belt threatening to hit Arklin somewhere unpleasant, draped his arm over the struggling archer's shoulders and leaned heavily on him.

"Hey, Ark," Damion replied. His voice was slurry. "Wha'cha doin'?" He glanced to his left and caught sight of Mirari. His forest-green eyes widened. "Look, s'a kid," he said, pointing at her.

Frowning distastefully, Mir crossed her arms and flipped her dark, nearly black, purple hair. Clearly, this Damion was one of the soldiers she had observed and wondered about - one of the drunks. Why _did_ they do that to themselves, anyway...?

"Yes, Damion," Arklin answered irritably, in a tone people tended to use on children (which irked Mirari to no end) or those who the speaker felt were stupid. "That's a kid. She's the one General Zelgius is taking care of, remember?"

Damion blinked several times, frowning as though he were unable to make his eyes focus. Which he probably couldn't. "Huh... Whushee doin' out here, Ark? S'too late fer lil' kids 'ta be 'wake."

Mirari scowled. "I'm eight and a half," she said, glaring at Damion. "I'm not little."

The fighter stared at her for a moment. Then he bursted into raucous laughter (Arklin cringed at the volume). " 'Ear that, Ark?" he asked through his chuckles. "She sesh-"

"Damion, why don't you go to bed?" Arklin interrupted, pushing Damion off in the direction of one of the tents.

The axe-wielder scowled and crossed his arms childishly. "Ah'm not tair'd, Ark," he said. "And ah'm not goin'."

Mir saw Arklin's hand clench into a fist, and she worried as he turned toward the other man that he might be about to slug him. Her fears were unecessary, as the archer did no such thing - though Mirari suspected he might have wanted to. "Fine," he said airily. "Stay here and pass out. Just remember that I'm not going to keep you from choking when you s-" Arklin stopped, glancing at Mir worriedly. "You should really be getting back to-"

"No!" Mir whined. "Arklin, I don't wanna go back to bed! I'm not tired!"

Another burst of laughter came from the blonde's direction. "See! She don' wanna go either!" Arklin staggered as Damion pushed past him to stand in front of Mir. "Whusshur name, kid?" he slurred, putting both hands on his hips and looking down her. "Ah think ah like you."

She blinked. What was that awful smell...? ...Ugh! It was Damion's breath! It smelled even worse than the alcohol he'd been drinking... The girl suppressed a shudder. "My name is Mirari," she answered, taking a step backwards to get away from that horrid smell.

"Ah'm Damion," the man said, as though Mir hadn't already known that. "Ah'm the best war'yur in the whole armee!"

Mirari glanced at Arklin. He was shaking his head despairingly, one hand against it as though it hurt. "That must be nice," Mir said politely to Damion. Arklin groaned.

"Oh, yeah!" Damion laughed, grinning. " 'Speshully when you're tryin' to beat thoshe bird-men!"

Mir cocked her head. "Bird-men?" she asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Those hawks we fought today!" he exclaimed, staring at her incredulously. "Din'chu know?"

"No..." Mir answered slowly, her frown deepening. "Will you tell me about-"

"Sure, sure!" Damion said gleefully, looking extremely excited. "So, there ah was on the battulfeeld, cumpleetly s'rounded by sub-humansh. There was five in fron' o' me, five behind me, and s'many to mah left n' right I couldn't count 'em! But ah wasn't scared, no siree! Ah just picked up mah axe, n'-"

"Damion!" Arklin interrupted. "Are you alright?"

Damion blinked in confusion. "Whaddaya mean, Ark?"

Arklin's voice was laden with feigned concern. "You don't look so good, Dame," he said, furrowing his brow. "Do you feel okay?"

Damion was still blinking, but Mirari could see that his expression had changed to one of mild panic. "S'a matter o' fact... Ah feel a lil' funny, Ark..."

"Maybe you should go lie down," Arklin suggested. Nodding uncertainly, Damion began to stagger toward the row of tents without so much as a goodbye. Mir and Arklin both watched until the blonde was out of sight, Mirari marveling all the while at how clever her friend was.

"Sorry about him," Arklin sighed, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "He's not a bad person. He just... has a few problems." He glanced behind him at the spot where Damion had vanished. "Giving in to peer pressure easily is one of them, but it worked in our favor tonight."

Mirari gazed up at Arklin, arms crossed and a smile on her face. "That was really smart," she complemented him, and he looked surprised.

"You think so?"

"Mm-hm!" Mir answered with a nod. As Arklin began to smile, Mirari turned her own grin into a serious expression. "But I _was_ listening to him, you know. I didn't know there was a battle today... Why didn't you tell me?"

Arklin's smile froze on his face, then fell away. "I... Well Mirari, I... uh... Ohh, the general's going to skin me alive!" he moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Mir tilted her head sideways, frowning at Arklin. "Was I not supposed to know?" she asked. When Arklin gave another little moan and shook his head, Mir put her hand on her hips. "Why?" she demanded. "I'm not dumb! I know that armies are for fighting wars! And the general knows I know! I don't see why he would try to keep me from... Ugh," she grumbled at last. "Nevermind, Arklin. I'll ask him myself when I find him." So saying, Mirari started to walk off, but Arklin caught her arm.

"Hold on a minute!" he exclaimed. "I can't just let you go wandering through camp by yourself, Mirari!"

She simply looked at him, unimpressed. "I walked by myself to get here," she said, shrugging. "What does it matter if I do it again?"

"It matters that I know about it this time, and the general asked me to take care of you when he's not around," Arklin answered irritably.

The two stared at eachother for a moment. Then, Mirari sighed and shook her head. "We're both acting silly," she announced. "I'm not mad at you, Arklin."

The brunette gave her a weak smile. "I'm not mad at you, either." He took Mirari's hand in his own. "Come on; let's get you back to the general's tent," he said gently.

Mir nodded. "Okay." A mischeivous smile found its way onto her face. "Hey Arklin," she called somewhat tauntingly.

"What?" His voice was wary.

Mir stopped and looked up at him, green eyes meeting dark blue. "...Race you!" she shouted suddenly. Before he could stop her, she dropped his hand and sprinted away, laughing wildly.

**~Zelgius~**

_Missing._

Zelgius, working hard to keep his expression blank in case he should pass someone, walked quickly through the darkened army camp.

_She's missing._

At last, the wounded had been tended to, all the dead had been spoken for and burned, those who lived had been given a congratulatory, morale-bolstering speech, and Zelgius, extremely tired, had two goals: tell Mirari good night and that he loved her, and collapse onto his bedroll. However-

_My daughter is missing! Where is she?_

-Mirari was not in the tent where she was supposed to be, and he had no idea where she could have dissapeared to, thus the reason for his somewhat frantic search. WHY would she have left anyway? He had told her to stay put, almost for this exact reason! And she was supposed to be asleep, besides that! ...Where was she?

The sound of footfalls and laughter suddenly came drifting toward Zelgius.

"-ave to do better than that!"

"Get back here, you!"

"Make me!"

"Alright, you asked for it!"

Two forms appeared in front of Zelgius, one tall, the other short, both running at breakneck speed. A very interesting chorus of yelps and shrieks came from the two when they saw him and tried to slow themselves down, which, Zelgius might add, they failed at quite completely. The tall form skidded across the ground, slinging up a cloud of dust that made it cough; the small one simply screeched as it ran headlong into Zelgius and fell back onto its rump.

"Ow!" Mirari pouted as she pushed herself back to a standing position. "That hurt!" She glared up at Zelgius, obviously intending to blame him for her pain - until she saw who he was. Then her eyes widened, and her face split into a big, happy smile. "THERE you are!" she exclaimed, putting her hands on her little hips. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Zelgius balled his hand into a tight fist. You've _been looking for _me_?_ he thought angrily.

"G-general!" Arklin stammered, saluting quickly. "General Zelgius, I-" He stopped and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He took a breath. "General, I take full responsibility for-"

"It wasn't his fault!" Mirari interrupted loudly, waving her arms over her head. "It was me who-"

"Hush, Mirari," Zelgius said, cutting her off. She fell silent, cringing at his tone of voice. He ignored her and looked at Arklin. "I will speak with you about this later."

Arklin nodded grimly. "Yes, sir." He offered a small bow. "By your leave, sir?" Zelgius nodded, and Arklin shuffled away, clearly dreading whatever was to come.

"Fa-"

"I told you to hush," Zelgius said roughly, turning a hard stare on Mir. She wilted visibly, seeming to grow smaller than she was. Her hands clenched into trembly fists as she flinched again at his tone. It was clear that she still wanted to speak, but she didn't dare open her mouth now. Instead, she chewed on her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as though searching for some avenue of escape.

Wordlessly, Zelgius pointed in the direction of the tent. If the expression on his face looked anything like it felt, Mirari's terror-stricken face was no cause for surprise. The little girl was practically running, trying to keep as much distance between them for as long as possible. Zelgius, for his part, walked slowly behind her as they made their way back... 'home', one might say, keeping a silent, eerie calm about him. No doubt she saw this as ominous. Upon arrival, Mirari stopped and stared at the tent as though it were a monster about to eat her. However, one look from Zelgius was enough to send her inside with a tiny yelp. Zelgius followed her in and sat down heavily, barely noticing the way Mir was huddling in the corner. Ashera, but he was tired...

"Mirari."

Through bleary eyes Zelgius saw Mir jump when called her name. She crawled towards him, apprehensive, but attempting to smile, as though she thought she could charm her way out of trouble. Vaguely, Zelgius wondered if she was right. "Y-yes, Father?" she asked shakily, trying to sound cheerful.

Zelgius crossed his arms, not so much because he was angry as to keep himself moving and therefore awake. "I specifically told you not to leave the tent today, did I not?"

Mir cringed again. She sat down on her knees and clasped her hands together in her lap. "Yes, sir," she said quietly, head hanging toward the ground.

"And you disobeyed me."

"Yes sir."

Unable to stop a frustrated growl, Zelgius heard himself raise his voice. "Why?" he demanded, his earlier ire returning in a rush. "Tell me why!"

"I woke up and there was nobody here!" Mirari cried, lifting her face so that Zelgius could see the tears sliding down it. "Arklin was gone, and you weren't back, either! I didn't know where you were! I came looking for you!" The child broke down into sniffles and sobs, leaving Zelgius to feel as though _he'd_ done something wrong. It couldn't be right to make her cry like this... But it wasn't right to let her do whatever she pleased, either. Children had to be disciplined at some point if they were ever to grow to be decent.

But... She'd wakened to find herself alone. Children were often afraid of being alone... Could he really blame her for trying to find someone to give her a feeling of security? Of course, she would have to be broken of that eventually; there was bound to be a time in everyone's life when they had no one to depend on but themselves. ...But she was only eight and a half, for heaven's sake! She couldn't be expected to be so grown-up yet!

Zelgius shook his head, feeling it start to spin as the two sides of his heart argued with one another. He heaved a sigh and propped himself up with his elbows on his knees, watching as tears continued to cascade down Mir's face and feeling awful about each one. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked her despondently.

She sniffed and looked at him, blinking a few of those tears out of her eyes. "W-what?" she asked, confused.

"What am I supposed to do?" he repeated, sighing again. "I honestly don't know what should happen now. ...What would your mother have done?"

She swallowed. "Mother... Mother would... she'd punish me," Mir choked out in a whisper.

_Of course she would. She always was a hard woman..._ "How?" Zelgius asked, fighting to keep notes of despair and hesitancy out of his voice.

Mir squeezed her eyes closed; tears leaked out the sides. "...She'd proabably whip me," she confessed after a few silent seconds. "She... Mother always got a switch from outside and hit the back of my legs twenty times. It hurt bad... It felt like fire."

Zelgius blinked a few times in succession. A hard woman, yes, but _that_ hard? As best he could tell, Mirari didn't exaggerate, and thinking back, he could certainly believe Aeravi capable of such a thing. She had been surprisingly oblivious to people's cries of pain... But her own child? That was different than some nameless stranger who'd broken a law! He gazed at Mirari. Her eyes were still tightly shut. Her expression declared to the world that she was terrified of what was coming, though she also seemed resolved to face it. She knew she had disobeyed. She knew the consequences for her actions. And as he watched her features firm up, as Mirari braced herself for her punishment, Zelgius knew that he couldn't do it. He let out a ragged-sounding sigh and reached forward, pulling a startled Mirari into his arms.

"F-father?" she asked quietly, her little voice registering shock. "What-"

"Your mother was stronger than I am, it would seem," he mumbled, pulling Mir close and hiding his face in her hair. The dark purple became black in the darkness of the tent, but the apparent color affected the soft, silky texture none at all. It was a comfort somehow, that smoothness. "Regardless of whether I should or not, I cannot seem to bring myself to strike you, Mirari." Her arms tightened around him, and she, perhaps also seeking comfort, buried her face into his shirt. "...I love you," Zelgius said softly after a moment.

"I love you too... Daddy," came Mir's reply. Zelgius wondered at it. Obviously, 'Father' and 'Daddy' had different meanings to Mir, as he had been called the latter on but a handful of occasions. He would have to find out precisely what the distinction was...

_But not tonight,_ he thought as a yawn escaped him. "Mira-haah-ri," he tried to say, another yawn breaking his speech. Mir giggled as she pulled away to look at him.

"Yes?" she asked, a smile dancing on her lips.

Zelgius blinked - and nearly forgot how to open his eyes again. It was no small feat that he managed to force his eyelids back up. "It's time for bed," he announced, putting one hand over his mouth to stifle another yawn.

Mirari frowned at him, briefly, and opened her mouth as though to protest. Then her frown vanished, turning into an accepting smile. "Okay." She hugged him once more before lying down, pulling a blanket over herself and snuggling down into its folds.

Zelgius hardly noticed, having already yawned twice in the time Mir's hug had taken. His eyes fell closed again as he lay backwards. Within seconds, he was asleep.

**~Arklin~**

The pre-dawn sky was an ever-lightening shade of gray which became decidedly blue as the sun peeked over the horizon. Its light fell on and illuminated the Imperial Army's camp, already bustling with activity despite the early hour. On any normal day, the troops would have been marching before the sun ever thought about rising, but the previous day's victory was apparently enough to convince General Zelgius that the soldiers deserved a little extra time to rest.

Arklin drew in a deep breath, taking in the crisp morning air. It promised to be a beautiful day - except, he thought, his heart sinking, for the fact that he would have to face the general today. His exhale came out as a heavy sigh filled with dread. If he lost his position in the army, he lost any chance he had for... well, _anything_. He couldn't plow a field, he was useless as a carpenter, he couldn't read that well... He wasn't good for anything but fighting, and he was even kind of bad at THAT! Looking skyward, Arklin pressed his palms together and said a quick prayer to the goddess, begging her to keep General Zelgius from throwing him out.

A groan came from behind him. Arklin glanced over his shoulder and nearly groaned himself. The only thing worse than Damion drunk was Damion hungover, which Arklin was now faced with. He settled for a sigh as the fighter made his way toward the stream Arklin stood beside and knelt down before it to splash some of the cold water on his face.

"Augh... My head feels like it's gonna split open," Damion complained, scrunching his face up when the water hit it. Then he really let out a moan. "Ooooowwwwwww..." He fell backwards, slinging water droplets into the air, where they caught the light of the sun's rays and reflected it in tiny rainbows before falling to the ground. Damion's hair, brown and blonde mess that it was, fell limply over his closed eyes to drip water onto his eyelids. "Ugh..."

Arklin had no sympathy for him. "Maybe that'll teach you something," he said, harsher than he had intended.

Damion cracked one tired, forest-green eye open and glared up at Arklin with it. "Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked darkly.

"Oh, I don't know," Arklin said sarcastically. "Maybe that you shouldn't drink something just because someone shoves a mug of it in your hand?"

Damion opened his other eye and pushed himself into a seated position, resting his forearms on his knees. "That's not why I did it," he said defensively.

"Then why?"

A tiny, lopsided grin slid onto Damion's face. "For courage."

Arklin stared at him, his opinion of Damion's intelligence perfectly clear on his face. "What?"

"Yeah," Damion replied, glancing back toward the eastern section of the camp. "There was this pretty cleric girl that I wanted to talk to, but I didn't quite have the guts to say anything. The guys said it would help if I drank a little."

"A _little_?" Arklin scoffed, crossing his arms and scowling down at Damion. "You could hardly walk last night!"

The blonde returned Arklin's scowl. "Yeah, well. I had a few more than I meant to, alright?"

Arklin rolled his eyes. "Damion, first of all, you shouldn't listen to Lushien and his cronies about anything, most of all alcohol, because you know how they guzzle it down, and second..."

Damion frowned. "What?" he asked. "Second what, Ark?"

With a sigh, the archer continued. "Second, if that girl was a cleric, it wouldn't have done any good to talk to her anyway. They aren't allowed to be in relationships. You know that, too."

A horribly depressed sigh was Damion's answer. "That's such a waste," he whined, staring off to the east again. "Prettiest girl I ever saw, Ark, I swear. Hair like wisteria, eyes blue as the ocean, full lips red as roses, and-"

"DAMION!" Arklin shouted, feeling his face burn at a comment on the girl's figure. "Don't... Don't you ever say anything like that around me again!" he spluttered furiously, trying to banish a mental image.

"I'll say what I want!" Damion returned, raising his voice as well. He stood up and threw Arklin a black look, his hand on the haft of his axe. "You can't tell me how to live my life, you-"

A quiet sigh - somehow - interrupted Damion before he cursed. "Fighting again, are we?" a voice asked, sounding half amused and half in despair. The voice was soft and gentle, yet somehow incredibly strong. "I'd thought I had you broken of this kind of thing."

Both Arklin and Damion turned respectfully to face the man who had joined them, though in truth he was little more than a boy. Koras was scarcely eighteen, but his battle prowess, as well as his wisdom, made him seem far older. The scarlet-haired halberdier kept a calmness about him almost no matter what the situation, telling those who asked how he managed it that a warrior must keep a cool head. He had tried to pass this belief to Arklin and Damion, who were two and four years older than him, respectively, but his attempts had clearly been in vain.

Arklin felt a pang of guilt at that thought. He really shouldn't fight with Damion the way he did, but the man was just so hot-headed! You scarcely had to look at him wrong, and he would be ready to cut you down. "Good morning, Koras," Arklin said, trying to smile. "Nice to see we didn't lose you yesterday."

Koras laughed, a hushed sound. Arklin was beginning wonder if he had ever raised his voice in his life. "Trying to change the subject, Arklin?" he asked teasingly. "I'm afraid it won't work. You're still going to have to listen to me preach, same as always."

Damion sent him a grin, his anger gone as though it had never been there. That was another problem with him; his moods changed faster than... darn it, Arklin didn't even know what to compare it to. "What's today's lesson, Red?" he chuckled. "You gonna tell us how we're not supposed to feel anything, like you?"

Koras shook his head. "Just the opposite, Damion," he replied, allowing himself to smirk when the blonde's mouth hung open. "Emotions are not always a hindrance, but, at the same time, they are not always a help. It's a fine line that we as warriors must walk. A man has to know when to let his emotions out and when to suppress them. If you can't figure that out, you may well get yourself killed - whether you're on the battlefield or off."

Arklin stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head slowly as he watched Koras imitate Damion, kneeling to splash the cool stream water on his face. "You know Koras, I think you're the most confusing person I've ever met," he remarked.

The boy glanced back at him. "What makes you say that, Arklin?" he asked, his deep brown eyes sparkling curiously. "Have I contradicted myself?"

"No," Arklin said cautiously, "but... well, look at you. You're so quiet and gentle and all... And with all that wisdom you seem to have, it seems to me like you would be a better priest than a spearman."

Koras chuckled weakly, shaking his head. He stared into the brook below him, his solemn, watery reflection looking back at him. "No, my friend," he said, more quietly than usual. "The spear is too much a part of who I am. I've been taught its ways since I was large enough to hold a stick in my hands and do something with it. ...In a way, I suppose I _am_ the spear. Or perhaps the spear is me. Each of us is an extension of the other. Take one away, and the other would not survive. ..."

His expression grew distant, as though he were remembering something. Then he shook himself and rose to his feet, naturally keeping his back straight and his head up. A pure-bred warrior. That's what he was. He fell into a stance that only a handful of people ever seemed to recognize; feet apart, arms behind his back, hands clasping his forearms. "Arklin. Damion."

They jumped despite themselves; Koras was somehow intimidating when he was behaving normally, but he had raised his voice to the volume of their own, which from him was nearly like a shout, and therefore highly unusual - and unsettling. "It won't happen. I'm aware of this. But I still have to ask that you not fight with one another anymore. Try, at the very least."

Damion shifted his gaze to Arklin just as the brunette did the same to him, and the two exchanged an apologetic glance. "Can't make any promises," Damion said, shrugging. "But I'll give it a shot, Red. After all," he said, grinning his sideways grin, "hate to lose my little buddy."

Arklin stuck his tongue out at him impishly. "Little, Dame? From where I'm standing, _you're_ the little one."

A growl - thankfully playful - ripped from Damion's throat. "That's right, kid, flaunt your growth spurt! You were shorter than me when we met. Or can't you remember that far back?"

He could, actually. Arklin had joined the army four years ago, when he was sixteen. Damion, eighteen at the time, had seemed like the hero he always made himself out to be in his retellings of battles. Young and inexperienced, Arklin had tried to stick as close to him as possible, half wanting a protector and half hoping for a friend. Eventually, he came to realize that Damion was not the higher being he had appeared to be. He was just another soldier, like the other men. A part of Arklin was crushed by this, but another was much happier for the knowledge. If he was just another person, then they could be friends. It didn't take long for the two to forge a strong bond, once Arklin finally stepped out of the shadows and spoke to him. It was true that they had their differences, and that those often led them to argue, but it was never anything too serious, and they were always still friends afterwards.

"Yeah, you were taller than I was," Arklin said in response, smiling. "But unfortunately for you, I did grow. Now you look like..."

He trailed off, watching with dread as General Zelgius appeared between a row of tents in the camp. The dark blue-haired man looked straight at him and gestured towards himself. He did not look pleased. The blood-red armor he already wore glinted in the sunlight, as did the hilt of the massive silver sword in the sheath on his back, just visible over his shoulder. To others, he would have looked a hero. To Arklin, he was walking doom.

"What?" Damion asked, jerking Arklin back to where he was.

_Where I am for now, anyway,_ the twenty year-old thought dismally, glancing back in the general's direction. The man pointed at the ground in front of him, much as one might point to a dog to tell it to sit.

"Uh... Nevermind, Dame. I... I need to go, uh... get my stuff ready," Arklin stammered to his friends nervously.

Koras frowned, and it was as though the very air around him darkened along with his mood. "Arklin," he began, but Damion cut him off.

"What's wrong with you?" the blonde demanded bluntly. "Tell me. Now."

"I-"

"Arklin."

The trio flew at least ten combined feet in the air when the deep, unexpected voice came from behind them.

"G-General?" Damion asked shakily, standing up as straight as he possibly could and offering a salute.

Koras, predictably, had regained his calm almost instantly. "Sir," he said respectfully, bowing. "Do you have need of us?" he asked as he straightened.

General Zelgius stood directly in front of Arklin, a decidedly displeased expression on his face. He nodded acknowledgement to Koras and Damion. "Gentlemen," he said smoothly. "Thank you, but I only need one of you at the moment." His tone lost all formality. "Arklin. Come with me."

Arklin's heart sank down to his boots. _I'm finished. He'll have my head._ Despite his dismal thoughts, he didn't know what else to do but follow as the general walked away. He could feel the concerned gazes of his friends on him even after he knew he was out of their sight.

The two men strode silently through the camp. People scattered before them, casting nervous glances at the general and pointing at Arklin. The archer was more than certain that the whispers they hid behind their hands were directed at him as well. He clenched his hand into a fist. Where were they going? Was General Zelgius taking him to the center of camp so he could discharge him in front of everyone? He glanced around and saw that they were veering off to the right, toward a small, out-of-the-way rock shelf. _Oookay, so much for the first idea._

Though unable to quell a curiosity, Arklin didn't dare ask where they were going. He suffered in silence until at last they reached the rocky protrusion. Once there, General Zelgius turned around to face Arklin, and... what in the-?

He let out a bit of a sigh and leaned back against the formation, turning his face skyward. He closed his eyes as rays of sunlight streamed down on him. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Arklin," he said, without looking at him.

"Y-yes, sir?" Arklin asked, stuttering. _What on earth in going on here? Aren't I in trouble?_

"I've spoken to Mirari about last night's events. Tell me your side of the story."

Arklin blinked about ten times. "...Sir?" he asked, completely bewildered.

The general growled aggravatedly and reopened his eyes, fixing Arklin with a hard stare. "I'm really growing quite annoyed with the apparent need to repeat myself to you, boy. I'd thought you were intelligent. Was I wrong?"

Arklin's face burned. "No, sir," he said quietly. The other man nodded in acceptance and looked expectantly at Arklin. The archer himself took a breath. "I was walking through camp, heading to one of the fires. Specifically, a fire that people weren't drinking around. Mirari just appeared, out of nowhere. I... Well, I told her she should be asleep, but she gave me that irresistibly cute look and begged to stay with me for a little while. I told her alright."

He glanced at the general's face. His expression was completely neutral, but he was nodding; clearly Arklin's story and the one Mirari had told him coincided.

"My... friend showed up just a couple of minutes after that," Arklin continued, feeling nervous. "He was... he was drunk, sir. I tried to chase him away, but I couldn't actually get him to leave until after he'd already said too much." Arklin looked at the ground, letting the longer strands of his brown hair fall foward to cover the shame that he knew must have been in his eyes. "He told Mirari about yesterday's battle. You told me not to mention it to her... And I'm sorry, sir. I did my best. After he left, Mirari asked me for details. I didn't tell her anything, so she got mad at me and said she was leaving to find you. She was going to go by herself, but I made her let me come with her. Then she challenged me to a race and ran off, and I sort of... followed. That's when we... ah... ran into you."

Silence followed his words. Holding his breath, Arklin glanced at General Zelgius through the thin curtain his bangs had created. The blue-haired man simply watched him, his face still blank. Though, if Arklin wasn't imagining things, there was a smile hiding in his eyes...

"Well. At least you're truthful."

Arklin raised his head, daring to hope that it wasn't getting lopped off. "Sir?" he asked tentatively. "Am I... going to be discharged?"

General Zelgius seemed surprised. "No," he said, and a miniscule smile like the one before curved his lips. "No, Arklin, you aren't. I'd considered discharging Damion, but in all honesty I think Mirari would have found out about the battle even had he not mentioned it. It is... difficult... to keep information from an inquisitive child. So, I'm afraid the both of you are stuck here."

A wave of relief washed over Arklin. _He's not getting rid of me!_

The older man stepped away from the rock and clapped a hand on Arklin's shoulder. "I'm also afraid," he continued, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "that you're still going to have to keep an eye on Mir for me. Can you handle that?"

Arklin grinned widely. "Yes sir!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, and the general chuckled.

"Now that we're finished, how about you use some of that energy to help break camp?" he asked.

"Yes sir!" Arklin said again. He darted off, feeling happy enough to sprout wings and fly.

**~Mirari~**

It had been three and a half days since Mir had gotten in trouble. The army had moved fast and far in those days; the soldiers laughed amongst themselves that they had the Alliance on the run. Apparently, they had seen the army of laguz, which had retreated rather than face them. Her father was under orders to chase them and fight them - which confused Mirari horribly. _Why_ did they have to fight? That's what armies were for; she was well aware of that, but it just didn't seem right somehow.

Mir was determined to ask her father just what was going on, as well as discuss why he had tried to keep her from hearing about the battle with the hawks, which she hadn't gotten around to yet. Much to her dismay, there seemed to be no time to speak to him, even when the both of them were riding Celerare; if General Zelgius was awake (and lately, even if he wasn't), someone had need of him for one reason or another.

This really was very unfortunate, because a certain Mir was extremely displeased, and had stopped caring about what the others wanted. _She_ was Zelgius's daughter, thank you very much, and that so obviously meant that what she wanted was far more important than what hundereds of other people wanted. And the worst part of that was that Mir knew it was wrong.

Mir was, in truth, ridiculously jealous of all the soldiers that were taking up her father's time. He'd scarcely had time to tell her 'I love you' the past few days, because there was always someone around to bother him. And anytime it was just the two of them, it was late at night and he was too tired for conversation. In short, Mirari's life had gone from just right to no fair, and all because of one minor skirmish. It was enough to make her want to scream.

Now, after those three long days of hard riding, the Central Army had made its way to the eastern bank of the Ribahn River, a name that amused Mir since it could be said 'Ribbon' if the emphasis was changed. But that was beside the point. The Laguz Alliance was on the western side, close enough to see if you looked hard. Because of the river, the two armies were what Aeravi would have called 'deadlocked' - stuck, unable to do anything about the other's presence. Despite the lack of activity, the general still seemed to be needed everywhere at once, ruining Mir's plan of finally getting to talk to him.

Three more days passed with both armies sitting still, glaring at eachother over the river. On the fourth day, it was decided that one way or another, they _WOULD_ fight - and soon. With battle looming inevitably on the horizon, the soldiers at long last decided to give Zelgius a break. Their general would need his strength, they reasoned, so that he could lead them to victory over the dreaded sub-humans on the other side of the river.

Zelgius was visibly relieved to see that the men were leaving him be. He had hardly eaten in the past few days, and sleep had become something precious and rare. To sum it up, he had been living on snacks and naps, which had left him exhausted and... well, exhausted. One day to recuperate was not much, but it was all he had, and he intended to use the time given him.

At noon of the fourth day, Mirari had watched in more than mild awe as her father devoured an enormous pile of food, more than even Damion could eat at once (which was saying quite a lot). Afterwards, he had returned to their tent, somewhere he hadn't often seemed to be in recent days. Mir trailed after him, adamant that she would speak to him today. She sat and waited patiently on her blanket as her father stripped off his ridiculously heavy armor, so dense it shook her slightly when he dropped the pieces to the ground. Then, in hardly more than an eyeblink, he had collapsed onto his bedroll, a sigh and a yawn becoming a single odd sound as they both left his mouth at once.

Mir started. _He can't fall asleep now!_ she shrieked mentally. _I haven't talked to him yet!_

She crawled toward him quickly, reaching out a hand to shake him. "Father?" His only reply was a weak 'hm'. Feeling herself scowl, Mirari shook him harder. "Daddy," she said firmly, a note of impatience in her voice.

Zelgius struggled to wake up. He had at last come to understand that when Mir called him Daddy, it was important. "Haaah... What is it, Mirari?" he yawned.

"Daddy, I have a couple questions," Mir said cautiously, feeling only a little bad about what she was doing. "Will you promise to answer them?" She saw her father blink. Whether it was to stay awake or because he was confused, she didn't know.

"...Yes, I suppose so," he answered after a moment. Mir smiled triumphantly.

"Thank you, Daddy! So... why didn't you want me to know about the battle the other day?"

A sigh came before anything else, and Mir could hear the aggravation that came from knowing he'd been maneuvered by an eight year-old. He gave a little groan as he shoved himself back into a sitting position and turned to face her. "...Battle is not pretty, Mirari," he said. "It is not something a child should be exposed to. When I left you here with Arklin that day, I asked him not to mention what was happening because-"

"How did you know?" Mir interrupted, frowning.

"Pardon?"

"How did you know that the hawks were here and that you had to fight them? Isn't battle kind of a surprise most of the time?"

Zelgius squeezed his eyes shut. "The ravens told us," he said in a low voice.

Mir felt her jaw drop. "B-but-!" she spluttered, trying to regain momentarily lost balance. "But... the ravens are laguz! They were part of the Alliance! Why would they betray them like that?"

"...I don't know," her father answered, but somehow, Mir didn't believe him. Though a bit hurt that he was lying to her, she let the question drop and moved on. "So the ravens told you what was happening... and you didn't tell me because... why?"

He sighed again. "Because I didn't want you anywhere near the fighting. Perhaps I'm wrong - I hope I'm wrong - but I was afraid that you would find some way to slip onto the battlefield if I told you that's where I was going to be."

Mirari kept guilt off her face through sheer force of will. He was right. She _would_ have found a way to sneak out of Arklin's sight and find Zelgius. "Oh," she said, forcing herself to sound calm. "Well..." She though for a moment, wondering how to ask her next question, but gave up and simply blurted out, "Why are we fighting them anyways, Daddy?"

Silence reigned for several moments, leaving Mir to wonder if she was going to get in trouble for this one. Finally, though, Zelgius replied, "Because we've been told to."

Which left Mir feeling confused. "Why?" she pressed, not understanding. "Who told you you had to fight with the laguz? And why did they say it? ...The Alliance started it, didn't they? Why are they trying to fight with us?"

Zelgius shook his head slowly at the onslaught of desperate-sounding questions. "I suppose... the Alliance wants to fight because they're angry."

Mir held in a growl. "_WHY__?_" she demanded. "Why are they mad?"

"The Alliance believes that... Mir, have you ever heard of the Serenes Massacre?"

She blinked. "Umm... no. What is it?"

"Twenty-three years ago, Apostle Misaha was assassinated - that means killed," Zelgius said. Mir waved him on, nodding. "No one knew why, or who had done it. Then a rumor began to go around that it was the work of the peaceful heron clan that lived in Serenes Forest. The people of Begnion were grief-stricken, and didn't stop to think about how ridiculous the rumor was. One night, they attacked the herons, killing almost all of them. There are only a handful left in the world."

Mirari was horrified. "But... but the herons didn't do it, did they?" she whispered.

"No," Zelgius answered. "But someone pinned the blame on them, and now they are gone. The Alliance believes that the senate had Apostle Misaha killed. That's why they're angry."

More confused now than she had been before, Mir propped herself up on her elbows. "But why would the senators want to kill the apostle?" she asked.

"Well," Zelgius said, copying her, "the Alliance would point out that Apostle Misaha put a stop to laguz slavery not long before, and say that the nobles of Begnion - senators included - did not want to give up their slaves."

"...What do you think, Daddy?" Mir asked quietly. "Do you think the Alliance is right?"

Zelgius was silent for a while. Then, "Yes. I do."

"Well then why are you leading the army against them?" Mir shouted, jumping to her feet. "If they're right, then why aren't we helping them?"

"Because," Zelgius said sharply, reminding Mir of her place, "the senate has ordered the army to fight the Alliance, and I cannot disobey my orders."

Mir had sat back down after her outburst and lowered her voice as well. "Does the apostle want you to fight?"

"...No."

"Then why-" she began, but was cut off.

"The senate has ordered-"

"Who rules Begnion?" Mir interrupted. "The apostle or the senate?" She saw her father's face darken.

"Mirari _daie'_Aeravi," he said, his voice quiet and intense. "You are never to speak that way around anyone but myself. There are those in this world who hold the senate, corrupt though it is, in as high a regard as they do the apostle herself. Those people... would hurt you for saying such things."

Mir felt suddenly smaller. "Daddy?" she asked softly.

"Mirari?"

"...I love you."

"I love you too."

"...I think I'm going to take a nap," Mir said, hoping she sounded convincing. She must have, because her father smiled at her.

"That sounds like a good idea," he said. "I think I'll do the same."

**~Ike~**

The sun was starting to sink in the sky, turning the world a light shade of orange. The familiar sounds of an army encampment were an ongoing buzz outside the heavy canvas wall of the war tent, while the shadows of those walking past were silent wraiths.

Ike drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, a much better alternative to growling, which he would very much have liked to do. Their plan was risky. Very, very risky. Even Soren was doubtful that it would work, and he was the one who had come up with it in the first place! Admittedly, the wind sage was rather pessimistic, but the fact remained that they were taking a big gamble here.

"-then, I will attack the beorc general, and-"

"Your place is directing your troops-"

"Which I can do better from before them than behind!"

"Skrimir-!"

"Ranulf-!"

"You two argue like a couple of old women."

"_**TIBARN!**_"

Ike shook his head. _At least Skirmir believes it will work,_ he thought. _...But then, he'd go along with just about anything Soren said. Still, Tibarn doesn't seem to think it's hopeless... Maybe we _can_ pull this off, after all._

"...Why must people try to solve problems by shouting?" a quiet voice asked despairingly.

Ike shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Soren," he replied, glancing at the irritated sage on his right. "Personally, I try to solve problems with actions."

Soren blinked, then shuddered delicately. "Given who we are dealing with, I believe I prefer the shouting."

A grin was Ike's only response. He could just imagine Skrimir and Tibarn getting into a scuffle...

"General!"

Everyone turned toward the open entry flap as an auburn-haired (and therefore auburn-eared and tailed) cat laguz came sprinting to it. "General Skrimir!"

"What is it?" Skrimir asked bluntly, crossing his muscular arms over his equally large chest.

The cat looked positively baffled. "There is a beorc child at the edge of our camp demanding to see 'whoever's in charge'," he answered. His tail gave an aggravated twitch. "She was... quite forceful about her desire t-"

"There you are," a little voice said in a self-satisfied way.

The auburn soldier whirled around. "How did you get through?" he bellowed at a child standing in the entryway. "I told them not to-"

"Don't you yell at her!" an older female voice snapped. Heather stepped into view, arms crossed testily. "I brought her," the blonde thief said in a tone like ice. "I don't pretend to know what an adorable little girl like her wants with all you boring men, but-" She brightened suddenly as her eyes, which had been scanning the occupants of the tent, fell on Titania and Mist. "Oh, hi!" she said cheerily. "Didn't know you two were here! I'm sure you'll take care of this cutie-pie, won't you?" she asked, gesturing to the little girl standing beside her. Said girl's face twisted into a feral expression of loathing, which she blatantly shot at Heather. The blonde affected not to see it, as she was busy explaining that she had to leave to find Ilyana something to eat. After this, she departed swiftly, patting the girl's head.

Ike glanced at the war tent's other occupants. Tibarn's arms were crossed, his golden eyes narrowed scrutinously. Both Mist and Titania were watching the little girl (who was glaring daggers at Heather's retreating back) with decidedly concerned expressions. Ranulf had his head cocked to the side curiously. Soren's face was blank. Skrimir was clearly confused, and as he couldn't hide it, he was the first to speak.

"You may go," he barked at the auburn cat. He obeyed, withdrawing from the tent almost instantly, though not without shooting his own glare at the child. And as for the child, Ike studied her inquisitively.

She was young, probably not even ten, yet the way she bore herself suggested that she was at the very least _mentally_ older. She had dark purple hair that fell to her shoulderblades and, at the moment, seemed to shine in the light of the sun. Her eyes were like two sparkling emeralds set in her skull, and her face was at the stage where it exchanged its childish roundness for a thinner, more adult-looking shape.

The girl turned her attention back to Ike and the others, satisfied that she had glowered Heather away. She crossed her arms and looked at them all in turn, though Ike noticed her gaze linger for a moment on Tibarn. "Who's in charge?" she demanded.

"I am," Skrimir said, puffing up pridefully. By way of his peripheal vision, Ike saw Soren roll his eyes.

"And who are you?" the child asked, impressively not cowed by Skrimir's size and wild appearance.

"I am Skrimir, nephew of King Caineghis of Gallia. Who are you, who invades my camp?"

She took a breath, as though to calm herself. Then, without a word, she yanked her right sleeve up to her shoulder, revealing, to the astonishment of all, a Brand. When everyone was sufficiently wide-eyed, the little girl stood proud and tall. "My name is Mirari," she announced. "Laguz blood runs in my veins, as it does in those of both my parents. It is for this reason... that I wish to know your side of the story."

Ike felt his face go blank. "What?" The question left his mouth before he could stop it.

Mirari looked at him curiously as she sat down on the ground in the entryway. "The Begnion Central Imperial Army - which could really use a shorter name - has been ordered by the senate to destroy the Laguz Alliance. I'd like to know why - from a laguz point of view. Begnion's reason doesn't seem like a very good one, and the man who told me... witheld information. So I'd like to know, please: Why are we fighting?" She paused, glancing at Mist, Titania, and Soren, then back to Ike. "And who are you, who help the Laguz Alliance?" she asked, copying Skrimir's manner with a little grin on her face.

Ike couldn't help giving her a little smile back. _This'll be interesting_, he thought as Ranulf began to explain.

* * *

Shadows lengthened, shortened, and danced in the flickering orange light of the fire. Ike sat off to one side, watching with a stoic expression as his friends made merry. Well, most of them. Soren, predictably, was a bit less than an arm's length away from him, while Titania was little more. Both had their eyes trained on a certain eight and a half year-old, who laughed as she was passed from person to person in a dance. Ike shook his head slowly, almost unable to believe what had happened just a few hours before.

_"_That_ is why we fight," Ranulf concluded. He leaned back against one of the wooden tent poles and crossed his arms, waiting for Mirari to react._

_The little girl was still sitting in front of the entry flap. She had drawn a few curious glances from the people who passed by, but none had raised any questions. "You aren't hurting the common people, right?" she asked Ranulf, a tiny frown creasing her forehead._

_The azure cat shook his head. "Of course we aren't. We have no quarrel with them. The senators are who we've got a problem with."_

_Mir looked pensive. "...I think you're right," she said after a moment, and Skrimir raised a bushy eyebrow at her._

_"About what, little beorc?" he prompted. To Ike's right, Soren let out an extremely hushed sound that might have been a chuckle. Ike supposed it made sense; Soren was so fed up with being referred to that way that it must have been a relief to hear Skrimir say it and be speaking to someone else._

_"The senators did commit the crime," she answered, standing up. "And I think you should be allowed to settle the score with them." She cast Ike a sidelong glance. "And... my other question. Who are you? I didn't know there were any beorc who wanted to help the laguz."_

_Ike copied Ranulf, folding his arms over his chest. "My name is Ike. I'm the commander of the Greil Mercenaries-"_

_"The ones that fixed Crimea?" Mirari interrupted him, looking intrigued and excited._

_"The same," Ike said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth._

_She looked ecstatic. "Begnion's army came to offer you their help, right?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. When Ike nodded, she practically squealed with delight. "Then you know my father!" she exclaimed._

_"Your father's in the army?" Mist asked from her corner of the tent._

_Mir nodded vigorously, her purple hair flying every which way as she did. "Yeah!"_

_Ike cleared his throat. "You do know we didn't exactly make friends with all the soldiers, don't you? It's not very likely that we know who-"_

_"Yes you do," Mir broke in insistently. "Look, I'll show you." With that, she banished her smile, a look of concentration setting into her eyes._

_"What do you mean, 'you'll show us'?" Mist asked, and the child's eyes flickered toward her in irritation._

_"He's always got this kind of stony face," she said. "But his eyes are always determined. I'm gonna try to imitate him." She paused. "If it works, you should know right off, and I'll know because your mouths will drop open." Almost hesitantly, she glanced at Tibarn. "And he'll curse," she added. Her eyes seemed to convey a sort of confused sadness to the Hawk King. Then, she focused her attention forward, wiping emotion from her face and putting into her sparkling green eyes._

_Ike frowned. She _was_ beginning to look a bit familiar... Mirari set her jaw and pushed her shoulders back so that she was drawn up to her full height - and a cry rang out from every mouth but Skrimir's and Tibarn's, as they were both preoccupied with roaring profanities._

_"GENERAL ZELGIUS?" Mist shrieked at the top of her lungs. "HE'S your father?"_

_Ike hadn't thought anything could be louder than his sister's scream, as she had raised her volume higher than that of Tibarn and Skrimir, but Soren proved him wrong. "General Zelgius is _BRANDED_?" he shouted, and his voice cut through all the other sounds in the tent, leaving everyone silent in the wake of his question._

_Mir rubbed at one of her ears, wincing. "Yes," she answered evenly. "I've never actually seen it, but my mother told me that all three of us were the same, and my mother did NOT lie." She glanced up at Tibarn, flinching a little at the unconcealed fury on his face. "I heard from the soldiers that your army fought Begnion's a few days ago. And my father told me that the ravens-" _

_She shut her mouth instantly after that, taking an involuntary step backward. It was little wonder - Tibarn's expression was murderous. To be honest, Ike couldn't think of much that was more frightening than the Hawk King's wrath, so he was surprised and rather impressed when Mirari clenched her hands into fists and strode across the tent to stand before him._

_"Hawk King," she said, clearly fighting to keep her voice from trembling the way the rest of her was. "What Begnion has done to you and to the herons is wrong. Nothing can make up for what happened, but... I can still say that... I'm sorry. I wish my father wouldn't listen to the senators..."_

_Ike stared in disbelief as Tibarn's eyes softened. He put a hand on the little girl's head, letting out a strained laugh. "Makes two of us, kid," he sighed. Then, sensing Ike's gaze, he turned to look at him. "I've always said you were the craziest beorc I'd ever met, but it looks like you've got some competition here," he said. "Not many people in this world who'd come toward an angry hawk instead of running for cover." _

_He glanced back down at Mirari, and Ike saw him sniff the air, barely masking disgust. "You've got hawk blood in you, girl, and a fair amount of it. Shame there's so much beorc mixed in - you'd have looked good with a set of wings."_

_Mir looked up at Tibarn, smiling apprehensively. "...Can we be friends?" she asked shyly._

The answer, as it turned out, was yes. To the great surprise of Ike and the vast majority of the other members of the army, Tibarn - no pun intended - took Mirari under his wing, appearing to think that despite her parentage, she was as good as laguz. In fact, in the past few hours, he had practically adopted her. Which, Ike mused, was why the two were now weaving in and out of the other dancing laguz, smiling (Tibarn) and laughing wildly (Mirari).

The dancing itself was really quite strange from Ike's point of view. They were heading into battle in less than twelve hours; they should be resting, not drinking and doing jigs. However, as Ranulf had explained when Ike brought it up, if the plan didn't work, they could all die tomorrow. In that case, it was better to spend your last night having a good time than dreading what the morning would bring. So they danced to the music of a few makeshift drums and whittled wooden flutes, while, due to a strange twist of fate, Ike watched the Branded daughter of General Zelgius twirl in the arms of the Hawk King.

* * *

...Whew! *wipes brow* Okay, NOW back to business. I have a few requests for you, O wonderful readers. The first is that you please please PLEASE let me know how I'm doing as far as keeping the canon characters true to their personalities. I feel like I'm getting them a little... off. Am I right, or am I just imagining things? My second request is that you participate in an OC popularity poll. Now, I don't have a poll set up on my profile, so you'll just have to drop me a review (hint hint nudge nudge) but please, tell me who you like! Let me know who you wanna see more of! As of now, I have not introduced all of my OCs, so we'll have another one of these later on once everyone's here, but for now, the original characters who count are: Mirari, Arklin, Damion, Koras, and Aeravi. Let's see now, I know there was something else I needed to tell you... Uhh... Oh. Yeah. This chapter may be the last for a little while. *swords point at me* I'M NOT GIVING UP, I SWEAR! I LOVE THIS STORY! But I have a Legend of Zelda fic that's feeling really neglected, a Dragonball Z fic that hasn't even been TOUCHED in two years, and three other Fire Emblem fics that I'm in the process of writing. All five of these things are clamoring for my attention, and I'm gonna try to spend a little time with each of them. Now, I don't make any promises about anything, because frankly, I write what I want to write, when I want to write it. If I feel like working on this one one day, I will. If I feel like working on something else, I will. Writing is like drawing and playing mysic; I have to be able to _feel_ it, or I can't do it. ...And if I make myself do it anyway, it turns out total carp. So yeah. Now, in the case that you loverly readers may be interested in my other FE fics, I'll go ahead and tell you the title and game/timeframe of them. _Soren's Wyvern -_ Path of Radiance; _Stratagem - _FE7 (Rekka no Ken); _The Truth of The Matter -_ Post Radiant Dawn. Check 'em out if you're feeling froggy! And now, I think I'll stop wasting your lives with my jabbering. ...Except for you, Kanon Ryusaki. I shall reply to your wondermous review below. To everyone else, thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! ^^

Kanon Ryusaki - 0.o Yeah, it did kinda seem that way, didn't it...? Trust me, though, I'll never give up on this story; I love it too much to let it go unfinished. Cute and adorable, hm? Do you still feel that way after this chapter? Or perhaps the real question is, will you feel that way after the NEXT one? ...Wow, way to leave you hanging. ^^" I KNOW, RIGHT? Tibarn was literally that chapter's savior. I got so fed up with the sugary-ness of it that I didn't want to look at it anymore... But it's okay now, 'cause I'm over that now. *hugs imaginary Tibarn plushie* I lurves juuuu! ...Ahem. Soon? Well... I kinda ruined that. But at least I updated, right? And this chapter is uber-long, so hopefully that makes up for it. Thanks again for your support!


	4. Chapter 3: Decision

WOW. I am SSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY. I'm sure you're all sick of my excuses by now, but I have to offer one anyway - summer sucks. For most it means carefree days full of lounging around and goofing off. For me, it means work work work all the time. Up at 5 in the morning EVERY morning, then go to work, then get home only to be stuffed back in the car to go visit family, and finally getting in bed somewhere around midnight... *collapses from exhaustion* The first opportunity that I had to type was on the 4th, on which I got most of the latter pieces of this chapter finished. And pretty much everything up to the flight (you'll get it in a minute) was written back in allergy season and thus through a Benadryl-induced fog. ...So if the early parts of the chapter are total carp, blame the medicine. Anyway... YIKES! No reviews for the ridiculously long chapter 2... I hope I didn't scare you all off with it. However, I did have a review for the prologue from the wondermously amazing-ful DarkEclipse45, and as always... YOU ROCK! ^^ Thank you so much! You certainly made me like that chapter more. And now, without further ado, I present to you chapter 3! Read on, brave souls. Read on.

* * *

**~Chapter 3~**

**~Mirari~**

Mir held in a yelp as she stumbled, splashing into the cold water of the Ribahn. Fortunately, it wasn't very deep at this point, so her head didn't go under, but she was still noticably wet when she drug herself out of the river and onto the Begnion side of the bank.

Her visit to the Laguz Alliance camp had been highly productive, she thought. She had learned in detail the truth of why the two armies were fighting, and she had made a few new friends on top of that. The cat, Ranulf, was fun and funny when he let go of trying to be serious. That Ike guy was too tense, but he - and his friends - seemed to be good people. And the Hawk King... She liked Tibarn even more than she did Arklin! He was intimidating at first, but once you got past that, he was really nice, in his own kind of way. She was almost sad to be going back to Begnion's camp, where most of the soldiers were sort of mean and no one danced or had any fun. But her father was here, and she loved him, so she had to come back, even though she didn't agree with what he was doing.

That thought stopped her in the watery tracks she was making as she skirted the edge of camp in an attempt not to be seen. She didn't believe in what he was fighting for, but she was going to stay and support him anyway? Aeravi must have been swearing like a wyvern lord above. She had always taught Mir that one of the most important things in life was to have your own opinions and beliefs. You didn't agree with something just because someone told you that's the way it was; you searched for what _you_ thought was true, and if you had to, you stood up and fought for that.

Returning to Begnion's camp was like agreeing with them, which Mirari most certainly did _not_. They were wrong; the senators were wrong, and Mir didn't want anything to do with them. But... The senators controlled the army, which meant they controlled her father, which meant that if Mir wanted to stay with him, she had to pretend like she agreed with the senators...

Mir put her hands to her head and shook it, unintentionally slinging water from the drenched tips of her dark hair. What was she supposed to do now? Did she ignore what she'd been taught so she could stay her father, or did she live the way Aeravi had, proud of who she was and what she thought, willing to put everything on the line for that?

A movement from in the camp mercifully startled Mir out of her thoughts, reminding her that she did not want to be seen. Quick and quiet, she slipped further away from the firelight shining out from in between the tents, taking a long and indirect route to her father's tent. Upon reaching it and finding, to her great relief, that Zelgius was still asleep, Mir silently changed out of her wet clothes into an extra pair that Rhia had made for her "just in case," mentally thanking the blue-eyed cleric. She laid her clothes out flat, hoping they'd dry, then lay on her bedroll and cocooned herself in a blanket. Almost immediately, sleep claimed her.

**~~x~~**

"Mirari." ... "Mirari." ... "Mir. Wake up."

She opened her eyes groggily, yawning as her father's face came into focus. " 'Morning," she said quietly, pushing herself up into a seated position. He didn't return her greeting, and she frowned as she realized that he was already completely armored despite the obviously early hour. The light that came in through the half-open tent flap was pale and sunless, which made Mir think that the sun wasn't even up yet. Perhaps it was just hidden, though, because upon closer inspection, Mir saw that a fog was lying thick over the ground.

"Father?" she asked quietly. "What's going on?"

While she was gazing around, he had turned his back to her, and he didn't seem inclined to change that. "Why are your clothes wet?" he asked abrubtly, still not looking at her. This was a blessing in disguise, as Mir couldn't help cringing. She'd been out of her mind to think he wouldn't notice.

"I went down to the river yesterday, and I sort of fell in," she said. It was easy to say, because it _was_ the truth; just not all of it. _You may withold information if necessary, but never tell an outright lie,_ Aeravi's voice echoed in her mind.

A grunt was his only reply, which left Mir wondering once again what could be happening. "Father?" she tried again. "What's-"

"We're heading into battle," he interrupted. His voice sounded strained and worried.

_Oh,_ Mir thought. _No wonder he's acting funny..._

"Mirari." At last, he faced her, and in his eyes Mir could see fear, but not for himself. "You will not leave this tent. Arklin is going to stand guard outside. When I come back, I expect to see you sitting here. Is that understood?"

Mir stared at him, feeling fear grip her own heart. He couldn't go! What if he got hurt? "Yes, sir," she answered, hearing her voice tremble. Clearly her father heard it as well, for he knelt in front of her and pulled her into an embrace. Mir squeezed him tight, whimpering when he pushed her gently away.

"I have to go now," he said quietly, rising. "Mirari... I love you." Without pausing for a response, he turned and made to leave.

"Father, wait!" Mir cried, scrambling to her feet and latching onto his arm. "You can't go yet! I... I have a question!" she said, desperate to find some reason to delay him. She was afraid at first that he might shake her off and leave anyway, but he seemed to be as reluctant as she.

He stopped and looked at her. "What is it, Mirari?"

And now she was faced with a problem. She didn't actually have a question! ...Or... did she?

"Father, why do the soldiers call laguz sub-humans?" she asked, watching as his expression became positively baffled.

"Where did that come from?"

"That night Damion was drunk, he called them sub-humans," she explained, deciding it was safe to let go of her father's arm. He wasn't going anywhere now. "And I've heard lots of the others say it, too. I don't understand it, though. Why do they call them that?"

Zelgius was shaking his head slowly, as though still trying to figure out why she would ask such a question. "Some people consider laguz to be beneath beorc, and so they refer to them as sub-humans."

Mir frowned. Beneath them? How could they think that when the laguz were so much stronger? "But they're wrong, aren't they?" she questioned. "Laguz aren't beneath beorc..."

She started when she felt her father's hand on top of her head and glanced up at him, reminded suddenly of how the Hawk King had done the same thing. "They're wrong," he assured her. She saw his eyes flicker toward her arm, where her Brand was halfway exposed by a pushed-up sleeve. Almost absently, he reached over with his other hand and tugged the sleeve back down, frowning when he saw that it only reached the bend of her elbow.

"Laguz are physically stronger than beorc; however, beorc are generally more intellectual," Zelgius elucidated. "Beorc are capable of crafting and using weapons, and while laguz are not, they are well equipped with natural weapons and have no need of the sort we make. There is... a balance between the two races. Neither is better than the other, despite the differences. They are, essentially, equal."

Mirari nodded in a gesture of understanding, though she was only paying minimal attention. Tibarn's voice was in her mind: _"You've got hawk blood in you, girl, and a fair amount of it."_ Her mother's Brand had looked like a bird, as her own did. Mir wondered if her father's looked the same way...

As if picking up on her thoughts, Zelgius touched the spot he had just covered up. "What did your mother tell you about this?" he asked in a soft voice.

"She told me it meant I was part laguz," Mir stated matter-of-factly, much as Aeravi had presented the information to her. "She showed me hers, and she told me you had one, too."

Her father's face paled a bit at that; apparently he hadn't expected her to know. "I see... And... did she tell you that you were not to show it to people?" His tone was almost threatening.

"Yes," Mir responded cautiously. "None of my friends ever saw it or knew about it." Naturally, she neglected to mention the friends she'd made on the other side of the river last night.

A look of relief came into Zelgius's eyes. He seemed about to speak when a shout and footfalls came from outside in the fog. "General Zelgius!" It was Arklin's voice.

"I must leave, Mirari." The words crashed down on Mir like a tidal wave. She might never see him again! Tears sprang to her eyes as she clung to him, shaking her head in denial. Far too easily, he pried her fingers off his armor and gave her a tiny shove backward. In the short time it took Mir to right herself, he swept out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him.

Mirari took a deep breath, forcing her tears back. Calm... she had to be calm. As she drew in a few more of those soothing breaths, Zelgius and Arklin's voices drifted through the weave of the canvas to meet her ears.

"The enemy should not come this way, but I want you to be prepared for anything, Arklin. You _must_ protect Mirari."

"Yes, sir! I won't let you down. I swear."

Two silhouettes were just visible on the canvas. The taller, larger shadow that was her father's nodded its head once before vanishing to the sound of heavy footsteps. Then Arklin popped his head in through the flap. " 'Morning," he said, offering her a little smile. It quickly dissapeared as his tone became serious. "Stay in here, okay? I'm gonna keep you safe."

With that, he was gone, leaving Mir blinking at the abrubtness of one-sided conversation. He wouldn't be staying in the tent with her, obviously... Mir's eyes widened a fraction. If he wasn't inside, and he wasn't going to talk to her, then it might just be possible to leave without him knowing! Then she could find her father, to make sure he was alright...

Arklin's shadow was standing stock-still, bow held sideways with an arrow fitted to the bowstring in preparation to fire at a moment's notice. His head swiveled from side to side as he attempted to keep a vigilant watch.

Inside the tent, Mir scooted backwards until she reached the wall, keeping her eyes on Arklin the whole time. His behavior hadn't changed. Throwing one last look at his form, Mir turned her attention to the tent. The back wall was divided into two sections, both lashed to a central wooden post. From the look of it, if Mir untied this rope here, and loosened that one there...

The right side of the wall fell away from the post, leaving a hole large enough for Mir to crawl through if she was careful. Without looking back, she shimmied through to the outside world.

**~~x~~**

Mir peeked over a rock, eyes wide. Her father had been right - battle wasn't something she should see. She felt sick to her stomach as she watched beorc soldiers throwing spears into the bodies of beast tribe laguz, gasping and grimacing when bright red blood spurted from their wounds. Worse, if such was possible, were the laguz counterattacks. Enormous tigers and cats leapt with claws out at beorc that they dwarfed, slashing through the men like butter, at times creating huge gashes that could scarcely be healed; others, completely severing heads or limbs from the bodies they were attatched to. The ground was stained with crimson, the air rang out with cries of agony... And all this was visible through the fog that lay so heavily over the land.

With extreme effort, Mirari managed to avert her eyes from the horror of the soldiers on the front line, scanning the rest of the battlefield for her father's form. She found him easily, to a dark sort of pleasure. How could she be happy while people were dying around her? The feeling was fleeting anyway, because as she watched, her father appeared to be leaving the battlefield. Where in the world did he think he was going? His men were DYING! He couldn't just walk away! But he certainly was, so Mir dropped down to all fours, not feeling strong enough to stand, and crawled after him.

He didn't venture far, to Mir's relief; the ground was rough and rocky, and it cut her palms as she drug herself along. A little ways away from the main front, but near enough that the echoes of the battle were still easily heard, Zelgius stopped, seeming to be waiting for something. Mir wondered what - until a figure dropped out of the sky in front him.

"Well, well. Sorry to drop in... unannounced," a voice said as the figure straightened. Mir slammed her bleeding hand over her mouth to stop a horrified squeal that would have given her away. That voice was Ranulf's! "We thought it best to hunt the strongest prey first."

_We?_ Mir thought, confused. She peered through the fog, squinting, and was able to make out a few more laguz standing beside Ranulf. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Surely they weren't all going to attack at once? She pressed on her mouth harder, holding back whimpers.

"Of course," Zelgius said, making Mir's eyes snap over to him. "Interesting manuever."

"Will you draw your blade?" Ranulf asked.

The reply was neutral. "I trust you know who you face - Zelgius, commander of this army." He paused, and Mir assumed he was looking at Ranulf and his companions. "If you are not worthy of fighting me, you are only wasting my time."

Mirari blinked. _**What?**_ That... didn't sound like him...

"I'm Ranulf, right hand to Gallia's future king. Will that do?" A strange blue light came from Ranulf's direction, piercing the fog. Ranulf was changing, transforming into the cat that he bore the physical features of. Mir gulped. They really were going to fight...

"We shall see," came a smooth reply from her father. "I will accept your challenge." Mir watched as he raised the huge sword that he held, pointing it at the cat laguz. "At your ready."

A silence settled over the area, as though the world itself were holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. Then with a feral snarl, Ranulf leapt, razor-sharp claws extended. Zelgius swung his sword. Diving behind another rock, Mirari squeezed her eyes tightly shut, digging her fingernails into her already injured palms to stop them shaking as the clash of steel and claws rang out.

Mir could never remember quite how it happened when asked. Somehow, though, she had realized that neither Ranulf nor her father were dead yet, and that their battle was moving away. Despite her terror - or perhaps because of it - Mir staggered to her feet and dashed after them on legs that felt heavy as lead. Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding like a drum, and her lungs burned from the cold air that she pulled into them, but Mir didn't stop running. They were already so far away, and she had to catch up.

Staring straight ahead, Mir didn't notice the corpse until she stepped on it. The ground squished under her foot, and she jumped back, unable to contain a scream this time. Her eyes widened to the point that she didn't know if they'd ever shrink back to normal size, and she couldn't stop herself from vomiting. A dead laguz in humanoid form lay on the ground before her, the entire front of his chest slashed open and pouring crimson out onto the rocks.

It was the cat with auburn ears that had tried to keep her out of the Alliance's camp the night before.

Mirari stood frozen in place, shaking, eyes locked on the body. _How... No! Daddy... Daddy wouldn't... Not like that..._ she thought weakly, but the evidence was undeniable. It was the sight of this cat, whose name she hadn't even known, that spurred her onward once more, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Her father, no matter how good a person he appeared, could also be... a killer. But, so could a laguz, even one as seemingly kind as Ranulf. And right now, the two of them were fighting. Either one might end the other's life any moment now! She _had_ to hurry. She _had_ to be there. If she was, then maybe she could stop them...

She slowed for a moment as a thought entered her mind. Just racing up to the battle would be foolish. They wouldn't be expecting her, and one errant blow from either man could easily do away with her. _And I won't be any good dead, will I?_ Mir thought grimly. She'd have to find another way. Her eyes darted around the area; the fog was beginning to lift, and she could see further now. Off to the right was a slope that, if she remembered right, led up to a cliff - a cliff that ended in a sort of dead-end corner. If she were looking for an advantage in battle, that's exactly where she'd chase her enemy, so it was probably safe to assume that her father had done the same thing to Ranulf.

Nodding to lend encouragement to a body that didn't want to respond, Mir took off for the slope, scrambling up the side as best she could. Her hand found the top after a brief struggle that sent a multitude of small rocks skittering down to the ground. Mir pulled herself up and started running again immediately, ignoring her body's protests that she stop and rest.

_We don't have TIME for that!_ the child shrieked at herself. Or maybe she did. The sound of a blade striking rocks drifted toward her on a breeze that carried the fetid smell of blood. Voices that were recognizable as Ranulf's and her father's accompanied the ring of metal.

"You've fought well. I am impressed. ...However... I'm afraid this is the end. Have you any final words?"

"You haven't... hah... beaten me yet... hah... beorc! Nngh..."

Mirari had slowed to a walk as she listened. Now, she came to a complete stop and peered down over the side of the cliff, squinting to see through the traces of mist that still hung in the air. Four people were below. Two seemed to be beorc soldiers, which sent a surge of hope through Mir. Depending on when they'd joined the battle, it might not have been her father who'd killed that cat!

Speaking of her father, there he stood, scarlet armor resplendent in rays of sunlight that pierced the fog's remains. Before him, barely able to stay upright, was Ranulf. The cat seemed to have no major injuries, but he was clearly exhausted, and blood dripped from several small wounds. The sight of him quashed all the good feelings that had risen in Mir's heart. Ranulf was her friend! He couldn't die - and especially not by her father's hand! They both just needed to stop it. Just... stop fighting, and leave eachother alone...

"I admire your spirit, but you must admit it - you've been defeated. Farewell, Ranulf, right hand of Gallia's future kin-"

_"SKREEEEE!"_

Mir's heart stuttered at the sudden screech. She swung her head in its direction, staring as a massive green-colored hawk soared over the rise and into the canyon. It stopped in front of Ranulf as though guarding him. Then, in a flash of green light, it transformed, and despite the circumstances, Mirari felt a smile split her face.

Tibarn crossed his arms and alighted on the ground, spreading his wings out protectively so that Ranulf could no longer be seen. "General Zelgius." His tone was not friendly.

"Hawk King." Zelgius also failed to sound very enthused.

"You walk away from here today, beorc," Tibarn said without preamble, "only because I have honor enough to repay the favor you showed me. Return to your senators' camp. I'd say they could use some help putting out the fires."

Mir blinked. They set the senators' camp on fire? ...Well, they deserved it.

"...When next we meet..." was all her father said in reply before turning to walk away. Mir saw Tibarn nod and heard his answer of, "The war is back on." Then Zelgius did set off, his two companions in tow, heading toward a towering column of smoke that was rising into the air.

In the canyon, Tibarn waited until they were out of sight to turn around and kneel before Ranulf. He had collapsed during the conversation, and now lay facedown in his human form. "Ranulf," Tibarn called, shaking the azure cat. "...Ranulf! Come on now, boy... Ranulf!"

"Urgh... Hawk King?" came a weary reply.

"Hmph," Tibarn said, but relief was evident in his voice. "Knew you weren't dead. ...Can you stand?"

Ranulf attempted to push himself up, but lacked the strength; he fell back into a heap on the rocky earth. "N-no..."

Mirari could stand no more. Gritting her teeth, she flung herself over a small boulder and landed on the steep but sloping grade of the cliff, sliding down toward her laguz friends. Tibarn's golden eyes snapped toward her instantly, widening a fraction when he realized who she was. "Mirari?" he asked in what appeared to be disbelief, rising out of his crouch. "What in blazes-"

He cut off abrubtly. In the back of her mind, Mir assumed it was because she had flown straight past him and tossed herself onto the ground. "Ranulf?" she asked, hearing an almost hysterical note of fear in her voice. "Ranulf, are you okay?"

"Nngh... Mi...rari?" He sounded so weak. Tears sprang to Mir's eyes as her gaze traveled over his battered body. How could her father have done this to her friend...?

"Mirari," came Tibarn's much stronger voice from behind her. Mir looked up at him, sniffling, and flinched away from the furious expression he wore. "What in Ashera's name are you _doing_ out here?"

"I-I was following my f-father..." she stammered, blinking tears out of her eyes. They rolled down her face, but she hardly felt them. "I... p-people are... they're getting hurt... I... I didn't... want..."

She wasn't even sure what she was saying anymore. Seeming to realize that, Tibarn sighed. "Crazier than Ike," he mumbled, but he no longer sounded angry. He knelt down once more, pulling Mir toward him as he again surveyed Ranulf's injuries. "You really would have made a good hawk..."

Mir glanced up at him, sniffling. "Is Ranulf... going to die?" she asked. Tibarn gave her a sort of half-smile, shaking his head.

"No, he's not," he answered, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "But the sooner I get him back to camp the better." His face clouded over then. "You shouldn't have come out here. It's going to be too dangerous trying to get back to Begnion's camp alone, and I can't take you there."

_Then what do I do?_ Mir wondered, feeling more tears threatening. She looked at Ranulf again. All those wounds had come from fighting for a cause he believed in. Many people had died today, or been hurt like Ranulf, for standing up for their beliefs. Aeravi had always said that was the only way to live. So what _did_ Mir do now? Go back to her father and live a lie...?

_No. I won't._

Mir jumped to her feet. "Willyoutakemewithyou?" she begged, squishing it all together for fear of Tibarn saying no. "Please!"

The Hawk King stared at her. "If I do, I'm not bringing you back here," he warned, gazing at her with something perhaps akin to wonder.

She nodded. "I know."

An almost prideful smile spread slowly across Tibarn's face. "So be it." He grabbed one of Ranulf's arms, pulling the now unconcious laguz off the ground and slinging him unceremoniously onto his back. "Mir! You'll have to hang onto him and make sure he doesn't fall off while we're flying. Can you handle that?"

Though her stomach lurched at the thought of flying, (that had to be worse than riding a horse!) Mirari set her jaw determinedly and nodded again. "Mm-hm."

"Then come here and grab on. We need to hurry."

Mir obeyed, scampering over to Tibarn and putting her arms as far around his neck as was possible with Ranulf in the way. "Okay," she said.

How he managed it with all the added weight Mir couldn't understand, but somehow Tibarn leapt into the air, beating his wings furiously. Then, the same green light as before began to shine from him, and his form became that of the massive bird of prey. Mirari held her breath, praying that _she_ wasn't going to fall as they started toward the Alliance's side of the Ribahn, nevermind Ranulf.

The journey over the battlefield was a blur, as Mir had focused on one thing and one thing alone - clinging to Tibarn with everything she had. Her stomach tied itself in knots when Tibarn suddenly angled himself downward, diving toward the ground in preparation to land. Mirari tightened her grip and shoved her face into Ranulf's back, trying to hide. There was a sort of _th-thump_ noise, and then she heard a chuckle.

"We're on the ground, Mirari," came Tibarn's voice, amused.

Hesitantly, Mir lifted her head and tossed a glance about her. They _were_ on the ground, in the Alliance's camp. The look and feel of the place was already familiar to her, as though she'd been there a hundred times rather than one. It was like she belonged here, somehow.

"Let go, Mir," Tibarn commanded. Still shaken from the flight and everything before it, she obeyed thoughtlessly, dropping to the ground with a _plumph_. She landed on wobbly legs that nearly refused to hold her up. It was through sheer force of will that she remained standing, reminding herself that she was not injured. Ranulf was, and that made him the priority.

Mirari was prepared to rush off and search for a healer, and would have if the Greil Mercenaries had not appeared in front of them. In the group was an orange-haired man that Mir had noticed last night, but hadn't spoken to. As he walked in their direction, his white priest's robes fluttering and a blue-jeweled staff in his grip, Mir could have sworn that he was one of the goddess's angels sent down to help them.

Tibarn stepped past Mir, the unconcious Ranulf now over his shoulder, hanging limply and flopping like a rag doll with every step the hawk took. Mir leapt forward and attempted to match Tibarn's stride. The last thing she wanted was to be left behind, even if only by a few steps.

"Rhys!" Tibarn called, and the angel looked up at him. Cerulean eyes widened in horror as they took in the bloodied state of the cat laguz. 'Rhys' broke from the rest of the mercenaries, dashing to Tibarn's position. His robes billowed out behind him like wings as he ran, completing his seraphic appearance.

"What happened, Your Majesty?" he asked upon reaching the three of them. His voice, gentle as a soft spring rain, quavered with fear and worry. It was clear that to him the brief moment it took Tibarn to lay Ranulf on the ground was an eternity. He sank to his knees beside Ranulf, holding his Heal staff with both hands. Mir listened closely, but wasn't able to make out the quiet words Rhys whispered to make the gemstone crowning the staff glow. It quickly became irrelevant, for the jewel _did_ begin to shine, and as it did, the lacerations that covered Ranulf's body began to vanish. Skin that had been slashed open, oozing blood, started to knit back together seamlessly, as though it had never been cut at all. It was the most amazing thing Mir had ever seen.

"King Tibarn," another voice said. Mir looked up and saw that Ike had followed Rhys. The swordsman now stood beside his companion, peering down at Ranulf concernedly. "What-" he began, but stopped when his eyes happened to fall on Mir. "What are you doing here?"

Mir's breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. What did she say, anyways? Her problem was solved when Tibarn put a wing around her shoulders, almost protectively, and nudged her closer toward him. "Mirari," he said in a tone that would brook no argument, "will be staying with the Alliance from here on out. She's one of us, now."

Ike looked at her for a moment more. His blue eyes seemed to search her own emerald, though for what Mir couldn't imagine. Then, he nodded, his expression one of acceptance. "Well. Welcome back, then, Mirari."

"Uh... T-thank you," she stammered, not sure how else to reply.

Ike nodded again, offering a tiny smile. It faded when his gaze slid back down to Ranulf. "So how did that happen?" he asked, frowning now. "Were all those wounds just from..."

Tibarn's answer was a curt nod. "Yes. That man's a terror with a blade."

A strange ache began to throb in Mir's chest. 'That man' was her father. Now that she was here with the Alliance, her father was the general of the enemy's forces. Armies were for fighting wars...

_Well Mother, we're in a war,_ she thought, glancing up at the sky. _I chose the side I believed in, Mother, like you told me to do. But I'm not with Father, like you told me to be. ...Mother... Am I doing what's right?_

"-need to make plans as to what our next course of action will be," yet another voice said, cutting into Mir's thoughts. Soren, the speaker, and the rest of the mercenaries had made their way to where Mir and the others stood (or, in Rhys and Ranulf's cases, knelt and lay). "It is crucial to settle this as immediately as possible."

Ike shook his head slightly. "That's true, Soren, but we can't do anything like that until Ranulf comes around," he said, gesturing to the laguz. "He's second in command in this army. You know that."

Soren's face darkened. Still, he gave a nod, albeit a stiff one. "Very well. But the _moment_ Ranulf regains conciousness, we _must_ convene to decide our next move."

"We'll send a runner when we're prepared to meet, King Tibarn," the red-headed woman, Titania, said.

Tibarn inclined his head in response. "Ready when you are." He nudged Mir with his wing again, this time turning her in a direction that faced away from him. "You'll be coming with me," he said. "This w-"

"Tibarn!"

He turned toward whoever had called his name. Mir caught him smiling as he did. "Reyson," he called back. "I trust you managed to behave yourself while I was gone?"

"Oh yes," was the sardonic reply. The words sounded wrong coupled with the voice that spoke them; it was light and melodic, yet sounded so bitter. "I sat here and did nothing while others fought, as... al...ways..." Total confusion was evident in the way the voice began trailing off midword. "Tibarn... why is there a beorc child clinging to the hem of your shirt?"

Mir felt her face flush scarlet as she quickly dropped the guilty hand to her side. She had been clinging, though she couldn't have said for sure just when she'd taken hold of Tibarn's shirt. Most likely when they'd mentioned her father.

"Ah, that's right," Tibarn said, sounding mildly bemused. "You had already left the war meeting yesterday evening, and you didn't join in the dancing. I'd almost forgotten you hadn't met."

A little yelp escaped Mir as Tibarn placed his enormous hands on her significantly smaller shoulders and wheeled her about to face the speaker. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. And she wondered how, in all of Tellius, she had thought that _Rhys_ looked like an angel.

The man who stood before them was irrefutably the most gorgeous person Mirari had ever seen. Like Rhys, he was dressed in white, though his garb had less the look of robes and more that of a long coat with clothes underneath. Embroidery ran up the length of his long, flaring sleeves in a pattern that could be interperted as golden flames, the hue of which matched his thigh-length silken hair. A gentle zephyr blew through the emcampment and blew the golden curtain away from his face, revealing skin of the palest ivory and grayish-green eyes that, though lightly colored, were somehow striking. Atop his head rested a circlet of shining silver, supported by oddly -but nicely- pointed ears. And, behind him, feathers rustling in the slight breeze, were two impossibly large, inconceivably beautiful white wings.

That_ is an angel. He has to be._

"Reyson, this is Mirari," Tibarn said. "She's with us."

Reyson still looked baffled. "I'm not sure I understand you, Tibarn," he said, a frown creasing his perfect brow. "Wh-"

He cut off when Tibarn plucked Mir off the ground and tossed her up onto his left shoulder, where he held her loosely, then slung his other arm around Reyson's shoulders, staggering him. "I'll explain," the hawk told him, grinning in response to the glare he was recieving, "but for now, let's just get her settled."

Mir glanced around as she was carried through the camp, trying to memorize everything about the layout and listening intently to Tibarn's explanations of what was what. _You always said it was a good thing I was smart, Mother,_ she mused. _Well, you were right. I'm really going to have to think if I want to help here..._

**~Zelgius~**

_They're clever. More so than we've given them credit for. Those fool senators! None of us would be in this mess if not for them...!_

Zelgius shook himself out of those thoughts. After a battle like that one, he often found himself slipping to the point that even he believed the charade. The war was simply a means to an end. It didn't _matter_ who won... But storm it all, sometimes it seemed like it did! Every soldier that fell on the field was his responsibility. As their commander, it was his duty to keep them alive so that they could return to their loved ones - just as he was doing now, trudging back to his tent where Mirari was waiting. The spearman Koras and another from his squad flanked him, the former characteristically solemn and patient as he waited to deliver the casualty report. The list in his gloved hands was longer than any had been in several years. Zelgius didn't want to hear it at all; every name was a failure to haunt him, but protocol dictated that he must. The day had scarcely begun, though, as the battle had been so early in the morning, so at the very least he could see Mir before he resigned himself to admitting a defeat.

At last, the canvas shelter came into view. Zelgius quickened his pace. If her behavior earlier had been any indication, Mir was probably in hysterics by now. Best not to make her wait any lo-

He stopped dead, causing Koras to bump into him, but he paid that no mind. What... was that on the rocks? In the next breath he was running, heart hammering against his chest as though trying to burst out of it. Seven minutes worth of walking distance was traversed in three as Zelgius thundered across the earth to reach the form on the ground. He neared the thing. It became distinguishable, and Zelgius's fears were realized. Sounds of footfalls continued though the blue-haired man slid to a stop, dropping numbly to one knee beside Arklin's body.

The boy had certainly been through the abyss and back. His clothing was torn and blood-soaked; his bow was splintered in two, half of it still clutched desperately in his left hand. Crimson trickled down the side of his ashen face from somewhere under his matted brown hair. A head wound. That wasn't good. How large was it? How long ago had it happened?

Zelgius wasn't sure why he bothered. The battle had been over for hours; there was next to no chance that the boy was alive. Deep lacerations covered his body, and with what must have been a gash on his head... Regardless of it all, Zelgius pressed his hand against Arklin's chest, waiting - and, he found to a dull sort of surprise, praying - to feel something.

...

_Th-bmp._

"ARKLIN!" Koras's scream was synchronized with that one beat of Arklin's heart that kindled a blaze of hope in Zelgius's own.

"Find a cleric!" Zelgius roared at the other spearman. He darted off, terrified, to do as told.

"Arklin!" Koras yelled again, falling to the ground. "Arklin!" The red-head reached out a trembling hand, jumping in surprise when Zelgius smacked it away. His brown eyes glistened with tears and a look of betrayal.

"Don't touch him," Zelgius commanded, harsher than necessary. Or perhaps not. All pain, physical or otherwise, had a way of numbing the mind to comprehension. "The less he's moved the better. Wait for the healer."

A series of violent sniffles and a quavery "Yes, sir," were Koras's reply. Nodding in a gesture of approval, Zelgius shifted his gaze back to the archer. Through the abyss and back, without a doubt... A sudden motion from Arklin startled both Zelgius and Koras, setting their hearts racing again. The youth was coughing, vicious hacks that racked his battered frame. Despite what he'd said, Zelgius found himself taking hold of Arklin to steady him. The episode soon ended, leaving Arklin gasping like fish out of the water. Then the unbelievable ocurred.

With another cough, Arklin wearily opened his blue eyes, casting them about until they fell on Zelgius. "G-gene-huh-ral," he wheezed. His voice was little more than a rasp. "General... I... I t-tried..."

"Quiet, Arklin," Zelgius adminoshed without much force. "Don't waste your energy."

Pain shot across the boy's features as he seized Zelgius's wrist with his hands, but he did not relinquish his hold. "I... t-tried," he repeated weakly. "T-tiger lag" - here he broke into another violent cough - "laguz," he finished in a whisper. "F-fought it o-_kuh_-ff, bu-_kuh_-t... It... got in a few swipes at me too..." Arklin's face now bore the ghost of a grin. "Still have to... put up with me, though." In an instant, his eyes lost any smile they'd held, and his expression changed to one of horror and worry. "Mi...rari... Never got to... check on her..." Those deep blue eyes were pleading now. "Mir... is she okay?"

_Mir._

Zelgius jerked his arm out of Arklin's grasp as though his touch burned. In his panic over Arklin, he had forgotten her. How in Ashera's name did you forget the most important thing in your life? Especially when she might be hurt, too? In less time than he had previously thought possible he was on his feet and rushing toward the tent, yelling her name. "Mirari!" he shouted, ripping the tent open. "Mir-" He froze in place.

The tent was empty.

_She's gone._

In that moment, it was as though the world had met its doom. The ground under Zelgius simply crumbled away, leaving him to hurtle downwards into an endless black chasm, a void that light and hope could not penetrate. Falling beside him was a small, red object that throbbed and pulsed periodically, though each beat seemed weaker than the one before. His heart.

The back wall of the tent was partially demolished, the right side flapping lazily in a breeze. Ropes that had secured it in place now lay at the foot of the wooden support pole, a bundle of tangled-up knots that had clearly been untied.

_She left while Arklin wasn't looking,_ some part of Zelgius's mind that was still functioning informed him. _She left. To come and find you. __**She was looking for you.**_ The mind-fragment made every word seem like an accusation, as though it were his fault that Mirari had taken such actions. Under the current circumstances, Zelgius couldn't find grounds to argue with it. He was to blame for this? Well, he'd fix it - NOW.

He whirled around, shocked to see that the scene before him had not changed, save that Koras was now repeating what Zelgius himself had said. 'Save your strength, Arklin.' Scarcely a moment had passed, yet it had seemed an eternity to Zelgius. He was still plummeting down that lightless fissure, scrabbling for a handhold and finding none.

"General?" Koras asked in a subdued voice. His usual hush had returned, Zelgius noted subconciously. It vanished when they made eye contact. Could he see that pit, then? Had Koras fallen down a similar rift, sometime in his past...? "General Zelgius, what is it?"

Where it came from, Zelgius didn't know. Desperation, perhaps? It didn't matter. Somewhere inside, he found a hidden reserve of strength and drew on it, feeling energy - and emotion - return to him in a rush. Rather than numb, he now felt as frantic as he had a moment ago when he'd first remembered his daughter. A tiny ledge appeared in the side of the chasm, and Zelgius grabbed onto it. There was still a reason to cling to life.

"Mirari is missing!" he roared, and Koras sprang to his feet, horror written on his face plain as day.

"NO!" the boy shrieked. "No, no, NO! Not the child! Not a child!..."

"Koras, where is the rest of your squad?" Zelgius demanded.

"They were ordered to return here to gather supplies that were left, scavenge what weapons they could from the battlefield, and check the fallen for signs of life," he answered immediately, an inferno of emotion blazing in his dark brown eyes. "They should be on the field now, sir!"

"Gather them and form a search party," Zelgius ordered, unsheathing his sword. He had no idea what purpose the blade could serve in this situation, but having the familiar weight in his hand helped him think. "Spread out in every direction and scour the place. NO ONE goes alone, Koras; there may still be enemies about. I want those men in groups of three. And Koras! Mirari must be found. I am responsible for that child, and if she is not returned to her family in any condition but perfect, blood _will_ be spilled, do you understand?"

A sharp salute was the reply. "Yes, sir!" he bellowed, and Zelgius nodded briskly. No sooner had this exchange taken place than the spearman from before came racing toward them, a flailing cleric slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He skidded to a stop and all but tossed her to the ground, pointing frenetically at Arklin's battered form. Clearly frightened of his erratic behavior, the girl dropped obediently to her knees and began chanting. The jewel atop her staff shone brightly, illuminating Arklin's face as though to emphasize his pallor. Slowly, that grayish color receded - but only partially. Wounds were healing - but not all the way.

"What's wrong?" the spearman yelled, a note of hysteria in his voice. "Why isn't he healed?"

The cleric stood up and tossed her mane of wysteria hair at him angrily, a major shift in attitude. "It's a wonder he isn't _dead_," she yelled back, brandishing her staff at him. "You bring me out here with nothing but a Heal staff and just expect him to be all fine and dandy? You're out of your mind!"

She whirled about and looked at Zelgius. "General," she started, still irritated but respectful, "I did what I could with what I have, but he's not in the clear yet. I need to take him back to the healing tent with the other wounded. There are more staves there for me to work with, and quite frankly, Ashera knows he needs work," she said bluntly, eliciting a dropped jaw from the unnamed soldier.

Zelgius nodded and waved a hand at her. "Whatever you need," he said distractedly. _Yes, yes, help Arklin; I said as much when I called for you. Mir is MISSING! I have to find her! I have to GO!_ "You, spearman! Fetch a horse for this girl-"

" 'This girl'?" she interrupted irately. "My name is Rhia!"

"Fine then, fetch a horse for Rhia!" Zelgius said loudly, anger surging through him. This was wasting time! "Make sure it can carry two, and GENTLY help her get Arklin on its back!" He stood as though rooted to the spot. "MOVE, MAN!" Zelgius thundered, and off he dashed.

The cleric - that is, **Rhia** - opened her mouth to speak, but Zelgius ignored her, turning his attention to Koras instead. "Koras!" he barked. "The search party!"

"Yes sir!" Koras responded. "Three men to a group, a group in every direction. I've got it."

"Excellent." With that, Zelgius turned and started to walk away, but a shout from Koras stopped him, if just barely.

"Sir!" the boy exclaimed. "Sir, what about you?"

_What do you mean what ab- Oh._ "I will be going alone, Koras."

"But sir, you just said that no one-"

"My armor is stronger than yours, and I am stronger than you!" he replied, exasperation evident in his tone. "I can withstand a laguz attack. I will be fine. Now go, Koras. And I will do the same."

There was a pause. "Yes, sir," he agreed finally before sprinting away toward the battlefield.

With no one around to watch him save a preoccupied Rhia and the incapacitated Arklin, Zelgius himself broke into a run, sword still in hand. The blade caught the light of the sun's rays and cast it about as he rushed across the rocky exspanse, eyes scanning every inch of the terrain despite his speed. Mir was nowhere among them, and so he continued on. After a time, the rocks beneath his boots gave way to soil and grasses, the cliffs and boulders that rose to his sides dissapearing in favor of trees and shrubs. He found himself in a small wooded area, far too small to be a forest on its own, but like a patch of one. The Ribahn was audible on his left; clearly the river ran through this place before reaching the rocky banks the armies had clashed upon.

The forested area was peaceful. If Mirari had been searching for a place to hide from the chaos of battle, this was the best spot she could have chosen. Was she here, though?

"Mirari!" Zelgius called, slowing to a jog. He began studying the scenery more intently, truly searching for signs of her this time. "Mirari! ...Mir! ...Mirari!" Each call recieved the same answer: silence. Still Zelgius shouted for her, knowing that he could not give up...

One hour passed, then two. Mirari was not in the woods. Zelgius was walking slowly back in the direction of Begnion encampment. Every step was more difficult; with each move he made, his limbs felt heavier and heavier, until at last he stopped in the middle of his path. He let go his sword hilt, and the weapon dropped into the dust, sending up a tiny cloud. Meanwhile, its owner had taken a shuddering breath and leaned his back against a tree.

The ledge inside the chasm crumbled, unable to support Zelgius's weight any longer. He again began to descend into the pit, falling at incredible speeds. Now, he gave that void a name.

Despair.

Zelgius slid down the trunk of the tree until he met the earth, the strength to stand draining from his body. The blue-haired man closed his eyes, and instantly images of his daughter danced across the blackness of his eyelids. Zelgius hung his head, slowly bringing his hands up and burying his face in them. Though by such a small margin it would be nearly impossible to tell, Zelgius's shoulders began to shake. The general did not sob. However, one small sound did leave his mouth, muffled by his gauntleted hands.

_"Mir..."_

* * *

_... ... ... _*jolts awake* Huh? Wha? ...Oh, the chapter's over? *yawns* Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Now, once again, I would like to ask your opinion(s) on my original characters. The list has now lengthened, making it read as follows: Mirari, Arklin, Damion, Koras, Rhia, and Aeravi. Please let me know; as usual, I'm desperate for feedback. Reviews and constructive criticism begged for! *yawns again* And now it is time... for a _nap_. Farewell, readers.


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